


A Little Help

by KinkMemeMary



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Blood, Blood Magic, Blow Job, Body Modification, Bondage, Breast Play, Breasts, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub, F/M, Gang Rape, Gore, Lactation, M/M, Male Lactation, Multi, Objectification, Rape, Self-Lubrication, Under-negotiated Kink, magical mishap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 40,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9847982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinkMemeMary/pseuds/KinkMemeMary
Summary: Anders is hit by a wash of creation magic from a mage having trouble controlling herself. At first he thinks nothing of it, but soon he finds he is growing breasts. Then they begin lactating. But Anders cannot milk himself effectively and his swollen breasts quickly become painful.How fortunate, then, that Fenris should happen upon Anders' closed clinic in need of healing. Fascinated by Anders' predicament, the elf is able to help the mage out.[Note: this fic is reasonably lighthearted up until chapter 13, after which it becomes dark. Tags added for non-con, objectification, and DD:DNE apply there after. Feel free to stop reading after 12 if you're not comfortable with the darker stuff.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme fill following a request for any/any, lactation http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13010.html?view=64294098#t64294098
> 
> Part of my mission to fill some old, neglected, kinky kink meme requests. I started this a while back and never intended it to get very long, but every now and then it calls me back to add to.

The pull and drag of Fenris's mouth on his nipple made Anders squirm.

"Oh, _fuck_!" he swore.

He could feel the spurt of liquid leaching out of his large, swollen breast.

"Magic is to serve man, mage," Fenris breathed, the movement of air against Anders' moist skin making the sensitive flesh pucker.

"I don't think this is what Andraste had in mind," Anders protested, then moaned as Fenris reached to squeeze his other newly formed breast, its tenderness arousing. As was the sense that he was far, far too over-full. A tiny bead of milk condensed on Anders skin, and Fenris chuckled before licking it off with his tongue.

The elf returned to his left breast, keeping the right one painfully full, making him gasp at each gentle squeeze.

Fenris's hot, wet mouth closed on him again and _sucked_. The delicious, foreign _dragging_ sensation continued to surprise Anders with just how damn erotic it was. But it paled behind the fact that it was _Fenris_ of all people who was helping him with this... and apparently enjoying it.

It had started yesterday, when they had caught up with a mage whose creation magic was out of control. The effects were mostly harmless - flowers blooming all over the Wounded Coast out of season, a sudden increase in the presence (and rutting) of nugs - but the mage had been in distress and was sure to be found and made Tranquil if something was not done soon.

They'd found her, subdued her, and taken her to Marethari, the Dalish Keeper, who recognised the issue and assured them she could help. But not before Anders had been caught by a rush of of warm, green magic, right across his chest.

At first, he had dismissed it. Creation magic was rarely harmful, and the reproductive side-effects that had affected the local wildlife didn't seem likely to find anything to catch hold of in the upper part of his torso. Had he been female, he might have been concerned, but he had never even considered this.

His chest had begun to feel sensitive and sore towards the evening as they headed back in towards Kirkwall. He had been more than usually aware of the coarse fabric of his shirt rubbing against his nipples.

Deciding he needed a bath, Anders had declined Varric's invitation to a night of cards and drinking at the Hanged Man, and went home.

Of course, these days a bath was a rub down with a damp cloth, but it usually did the job. But _usually_ when he undressed, he didn't find soft, but noticeable mounds extending just that bit further from him than the firm muscle of his pecks ever had. No wonder the flesh was tender. How fast had it been building there?

 _Stimulated by the mage earlier_ , Justice observed.

"Yes, thank you, Ser Obvious," Anders had said as he gently poked the new flesh.

_You should visit the Keeper as well._

Anders sighed. He was certainly not going back to Sundermount tonight. "It will probably fade away by morning as the magic disperses." Wild, unfocused magic like that rarely had permanent effects.

He felt Justice's doubt, but shoved it away. Gently poking his abused muscles, marveling at their new softness, he judged that it would not be noticeable clothed and really wasn't a matter for concern.

What he had woken to in the morning was a different matter.

This was no longer a slight, fatty extension of his chest muscles. These were definitely breasts. Very large breasts. Perhaps not quite as big as Isabella's, but close enough to be a serious concern.

He had been laid on his side, one breast resting on the hard cot beneath him, the other resting atop it. As he shifted to get a better look at his new… assets, he hissed at the movement. It wasn’t just that it was foreign. He felt so sore, so bloated, so, well, _full_.

Gently, he’d shifted onto his back, brushed fingers over his rounded curves, felt the tension in his skin.

He had examined women’s breasts before. He knew what this was. Some of the firmness might be explained by the fact that the tissue was entirely new growth, but this… this was something more.

He’d massaged the flesh in his hands and let out a moan. He was very, very tender, but the sensation was exquisitely pleasurable as well as painful. He felt his cock twitch.

He’d squeezed again at one breast and teased at the nipple at the same time… and was rewarded by a small tickle of white liquid.

He was definitely lactating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment moderation turned on because one person read 40,000 words of this fic and then came and wrote abuse on the first chapter because they found an element in the 27th chapter unrealistic. This fic does not pretend to be realistic. It's an exorcism of weird thoughts I don't really understand myself. It befuddles me that it's somehow become my most popular fic, but I don't think anyone came here expecting something that wasn't weird. Don't like; don't read. And definitely don't be an arse to people who are giving you something for free.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to avoid transphobic language. Anders in this fic is conceived of as a cis-man dealing with what would be unnatural *for him*, even though there are, of course, men and non-binary people who do have breasts. But be warned that there is some discussion of negative reactions he anticipates he might receive.

There had been no question of opening the clinic today. Anders hadn't a hope of hiding his new curves even if they hadn't been driving him to distraction.

Those patients who would not be put off by the sight of new, large breasts on their definitely male healer could hardly be expected not to gossip. While some Templars might look the other way for a healer, the presence of full, round breasts on a man would very likely be taken as a sign of dark magic.

That, and it was virtually impossible to get comfortable or think about anything else but the new additions to his chest. Perhaps, if he'd been more effective at milking himself... but that had proved surprisingly challenging.

Trying to squeeze the milk out with his hands had been painful and disappointing - not to mention messy.

He had managed to get one of his nipples into his mouth, but the angle was so awkward he couldn't achieve much suction.

His breasts ached more and more as the morning went on, and he ws relatively sure they had gotten bigger, too. Justice pressed him to return to the Dalish camp, but the idea of walking through the streets of Kirkwall like this found Anders making excuses to stay.

His coat fit poorly now, the sides gaping around his breasts and serving only to emphasise the changes to his body. And as for his shirts... One proved just about able to contain him, but the fabric was stretched so tightly across the mounds, he knew it would draw the eye, especially when damp patches began to form around his erect nipples.

In frustration, Anders had stripped down to his trousers again, sitting bare-chested on a cot, rubbing and tweaking his nipples in a frustrated attempt to get some relief.

It was in such a state that Fenris had found him.

The elf had banged on the clinic's door. “Mage! Your light is out, but I know you are in. I have need of you. I cannot wait.”

Anders had jumped in panic, pulling the too-tight shirt over his head, willing his cock to stillness as the constant pressure of the material on his breasts made him only more aware of them.

“Mage!” Fenris shouted. “Open up!”

Anders groaned and wondered if he could stick his arm round the door, heal whatever Fenris needed, and then retreat without revealing his condition.

Probably not.

“Fine, I’m coming,” he said in resignation.

He unlatched the door, meaning to open it just a crack, but Fenris pushed through.

Swearing, Anders closed the door swiftly behind the elf before anyone else had a chance to see.

Fenris turned to Anders, his look of irritation fading to confusion as his eyes were drawn down.

Anders crossed his arms, then regretted it as this only pushed his breasts up and together. He cursed. “Yes. I was hit by some of that stray creation magic yesterday and I’m having to wait this out until it dissipates. What did you want? I’m not exactly keen to have visitors right now.”

Fenris was still staring at his chest. His gaze made Anders hyper-aware of how his every breath caused his breasts to rise and fall, shifting against the fabric. He shivered and his nipples hardened visibly through the taught material.

“ _Fenris_ ,” Anders said, calling his attention irritably.

“It… you…” one hand raised as though to reach for him, but appeared to think better of it. “My arm,” the elf said instead, gesturing to the other, which Anders could now see was dripping blood. “Slavers,” he said, shortly.

Anders sighed. “And you’d like me to heal it, I suppose.”

Fenris nodded dumbly, still staring at his chest with a look of disbelief. Anders rubbed a hand over his face. The blood loss was likely making it harder for Fenris to process the change to Anders and respond appropriately.

“I’ll need to use magic.”

The elf nodded again. At least Fenris wasn’t calling him an abomination.

Anders had raised his hand and pressed warm blue healing magic into the deep cut. “There,” he said. “Come over here and sit down whilst I get you a glass of water. You’ll be dehydrated from the blood loss.”

“Mage,” Fenris said, as Anders moved to go past him. He met Anders eyes at last, then glanced pointedly down again. “You are… leaking.”

Anders looked down and saw that there were, indeed, dark blotches spreading through the rough grey fabric over his nipples.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s a side effect of… this.” He gestured with frustration, causing his breasts to sway. Fenris followed the motion with his eyes. Anders flushed and shoved past him.

“Is it uncomfortable?” The elf asked.

“Very,” Anders said in exasperation, turning back to face the elf. “I don’t actually have a baby to feed, and it turns out its harder than you might think to… sort it out myself.”

Fenris tilted his head, thoughtful. “I could help you with that.” He raised an eyebrow, surprising Anders with the sort of look he’d never have expected Fenris to turn on himself. He was unprepared for how arousing he found it… or how much the idea of having Fenris latch on to his nipples and sucking appealed right now.

“You’re making fun of me,” Anders said.

Fenris shook his head and came closer. “I believe, I owe you something. For my arm.” He looked at Anders, questioningly.

“Well,” Anders said, his breathing coming a little heavier now, not quite believing he was doing this. “If you feel so strongly about it.”

Holding his eyes, now, Fenris’s hand came up to his chest and gently hefted one of his breasts, feeling the weight.

It ached. Felt so, so full in the elf’s hand. But also so good. So good to be handled and supported.

Fenris rubbed his thumb over his nipple, and Anders moaned.

With a Maker-damned smirk, Fenris nodded and went to raise the bottom of Anders’ shirt with his free hand. Anders made no move to stop him, allowing the elf to undress him, his improbably large and very full breasts swaying as they slipped free of confinement.

Fenris caught them and gave a gentle squeeze. Sweet, sweet ache, and a dribble of milk.

Anders groaned and closed his eyes, lost in the sensation.

Then, Fenris’s tongue, licking a damp trail up each of his breasts, capturing the milk.

Fenris hummed, the rumble of his voice doing strange things to Anders’ nethers. “You taste delicious, mage,” he said. “Rich. Creamy."

Anders laughed. “I’d be a delicacy in Tevinter, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Fenris said, lifting and squeezing his breasts again, the sensation of the weight being in someone else’s hands making Anders shiver. “You would,” Fenris finished.

“I’m going to drink from you now,” the elf said, his tone making it a question.

“Yes,” Anders said. “Please.”

And then warm, chapped lips against his sensitive flesh; a tongue darting out and washing over his nipple. And then… _suction_. Wonderful release. A pleasant and utterly strange _drag_ and the feel of something flowing out of him. Into Fenris.

Fenris was drinking from him. And, _Maker_ , it felt so good.


	3. Chapter 3

For a while, Fenris continued to suck at the one breast, while the other only became tighter under his insistent, gentle squeezing. Anders felt the occasional trickle as a droplet spilled down his unattended breast, but it wasn't enough.

He was laid back on a cot, now, with Fenris leaning over him, drinking his fill. He supposed this would deal with the elf's dehydration problem, at least. And the apparently rich milk from Anders' breasts would probably be better for him than plain water anyway.

He felt the gentle tweaking of teeth on his nipple and squirmed.

"Fenris!"

The elf pulled back. "Sorry. I thought that might... but it was too much."

"No," Anders sighed. "I'm... very sensitive there, but it wasn't too much. Just... be careful."

The elf nodded solemnly. "I will." He bent as though to begin again on the same, blighted breast, but Anders couldn't take it anymore.

"No! No," he said. "The other - please. It's so full."

Fenris sat up and contemplated Anders' chest. There was an arch to his eyebrow that spoke to his dry sense of humour, and Anders wondered what was coming.

Fenris ran his hands around the sides of Anders' breasts, and underneath, hefting them, then gently pushing them together. The feel of them rubbing against one another was so foreign and delicious. Fenris tilted his head, considering.

"This one," he gave it a gentle squeeze, making Anders cry out, overcome by the sensation of fullness and tension. "Is noticeably bigger than the other now," Fenris continued. "I like it. I like watching you squirm and beg for my release, mage. I think I shall keep it this way."

Fenris bent again to his left breast, lips latching on, and sucking. Anders felt his nipple distend inside Fenris's mouth and he writhed on the cot beneath him.

He half hoped that his left breast would run dry and Fenris would be forced to switch, but it seemed almost bottomless. He supposed it had had hours to build without attention.

"Fenris, please," he said, his voice breathy with the exquisite pain and pleasure. "The other one. It _hurts_."

Coldness on his nipple as Fenris released it again. "I can be benevolent." The look Fenris gave him from under his fringe was positively erotic.

His lips settled teasingly against Anders' right nipple, parted, but open, his breath brushing hot against Anders skin where he longed for nothing but the moist wetness of his mouth.

Anders couldn't take it anymore. He laced his fingers through Fenris's soft, white hair, and pulled the elf firmly down on top of him.

With Fenris's whole face pressed against the soft, bloated flesh of his chest, he felt the elf's chuckle as a vibration through him.

Finally, the Fenris's tongue licked wetly at him, and he latched on. Beautiful, aching suction. Warm liquid flowing out of him, providing sustenance to another, as he was meant to.

That last thought might have given him pause, but at that moment, something else captured his attention. Fenris had found the hard length of his penis, and was _stroking_ it.

Worse, he was stroking, firmly, in time with the rhythm of his nursing.

"Oh _fuck_ ," cried Anders, completely undone by the elf's ministrations.

Fenris pulled back, sudden cold on Ander's nipple, white liquid filmed on his lips. "You like that?"

Anders groaned. "You fucking _tease!_ Get on with it!"

"I think I know something else you might like." Fenris pressed his mouth back against Anders' breast and sucked long and hard, causing Anders to moan. Then his mouth was gone again.

Anders slapped at him in frustration, but this time, Fenris bent down over his head, his mouth puckered and cheeks distended. "Oh." He opened his mouth, pressing his tongue up at the back to block the airway. Fenris pressed his mouth to his, and then opened.

Hot, creamy liquid splashed over the inside of his mouth. His milk. Him. He was tasting himself.

And so much of it. Not like the tiny dribbles he had been able to tease out on his own. He tasted like ambrosia. This is what Fenris tasted when he fed from him. _Maker_.

Anders swallowed, and Fenris smiled. "I taste good," he said.

"You taste very good," Fenris agreed, and then bent back to his work

Delicious, drawing sucking, made all the sweeter from knowing just how good this must be for Fenris. How well he was feeding him.

And as he sucked, he stroked. It all felt so _right_. And the pressure and release in his chest echoing the building pressure in his groin? _Well_.

As he neared completion, he buried his fingers in Fenris's hair again, pulling the elf further into the softening flesh of his chest. Fenris took the cue and drew long and hard on his nipple. The sensation of milk being drawn from him, along with the firm hand on his cock, was too much.

Anders came, rocking up on the cot, wrapping his arms around Fenris's head as he road it out.

He never wanted to stop feeding Fenris like this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry such a short chapter. I never meant this to be more than kinky smut and it was heading towards plot, so I drifted away, but I may update irregularly when the mood strikes. I definitely have some further scenes in mind...

As he lay back on the cot in the warm after-haze of his orgasm, Anders felt Fenris release him, shivering at the wet coolness on his nipple.

"I don't think I'm empty yet," he said, his voice husky with pleasant exhaustion.

Fenris ran his hands over Anders' breasts, feeling their size, moving them together and apart... playing with them, really, a small smile on his face. And Anders couldn't deny he enjoyed it. To appreciate what this could feel like from both sides. He couldn't refuse Fenris what he would absolutely want to do himself if he were in the elf's position. Not to mention that the sensations alone were enough to start hs cock twitching again. To feel his flesh so manipulated, to be aware of how different it was to anything he had ever felt as a part of his body before...

"Is it still painful?" Fenris asked, holding Anders' breasts together to make a generous cleavage that they both admired. The warmth of the skin of his breasts touching one another was both comforting and erotic in its strangeness.

Anders shook his head. "A little sore, maybe, but I think that's mostly from the abuse I gave them before you came along."

He stroked Fenris's arm, a finger following the line of a lyrium tattoo. The elf didn't stop him. Perhaps having another man's breasts in his hands changed Fenris's view a little on the kind of touches that were permitted.

Fenris sighed and released his breasts so they slid to the side, their weight tugging at him. "Then we should probably stop," Fenris said, adding, "For now," when Anders twisted his mouth in disappointment. "You should go see the elf woman who was dealing with that mage yesterday. This..." He laid a warm hand on Anders' right breast, "Is not right."

Anders raised his brows. "You can't deny you're enjoying it."

Fenris shrugged, removing the hand. "Perhaps. But you did not seem to be enjoying it when I arrived." He picked up Anders' shirt from the floor and chucked it at him. "I've taken advantage of you, mage." He shifted off Anders to allow him to sit up.

"I didn't mind," Anders replied, pulling the shirt over his head, relieved to find it fit slightly better now, although his new found boobs were still very noticeable, and several blood stains had been added to the drying white patches where his milk had seeped through.

"I think you usually would," Fenris said, looking away. "What does your demon say?" he asked, a little uncomfortably.

Anders pulled a face and sighed. "That I should go to Sundermount and speak to Keeper Marethari."

"Well, then," Fenris said, as though he had won a point.

"I can't go out like this, Fenris," Anders said. "It... _they_ are not exactly subtle. Do you really think I'll get far in this city as a man with huge, leaking breasts on his chest?"

He smiled to see that Fenris couldn't help but look down at them again when he said that. The elf flushed and looked quickly away, coughing to cover his embarrassment. Anders was charmed to see the blush reach all the way up the elf's ears. "So don't go out as a man with breasts," Fenris said. "I'll get you a _proper_ cloak, mage, so you can hide your face. And you can go out dressed as a woman."

"Hey," Anders said, taking mock offence. "What's wrong with my coat?"

Fenris looked at him and intoned in deadpan: "It shows your face."

Anders grinned to hear the elf sound almost like himself. "Alright," he said at last. Then on impulse he grabbed the elf's hand and pressed if against one of his breasts, enjoying watching Fenris's eyes widen and the colour return to his ears. "But remember what you're coming back to."

Fenris surprised him by giving the breast a parting squeeze. "I will," he said, his voice a little breathier than usual. Then the elf snatched his hand back and practically fled from the room.


	5. Chapter 5

It was strange, after the elf had left, to find he missed the feel of Fenris's mouth on his breasts, the suction of him drawing down on Anders' milk. He cupped and squeezed his breasts in memory of the sensation. He felt faintly absurd when he realised that he could easily spend the whole day in such a way.

Sighing, he forced himself to stand and busy himself about the clinic.

It felt an age before Fenris returned. He found the time to shave himself as well as complete a number of long neglected chores. It couldn't have been more than an hour, but with the door closed Anders was surprised at just how much he was able to get done... and he was conscious that his breasts had filled out again.

Nowhere near as taut and tight as they had been before, but the slight sag of emptiness was gone. He had been unable to stop himself from cupping and caressing them periodically, conscious as he was of their sway and movement as he went about his business. He felt strangely pleased to know that he was already plumping up again for Fenris when the elf got back.

"Mage," Fenris called through the door, so Anders would know it was him.

He opened the door swiftly and pulled the elf in. When it was closed again he pulled Fenris's free hand to his chest. "I'm filling up again."

Fenris swallowed, then squeezed, gently. "Does it hurt?"

Anders shook his head. "No. It feels... good."

Fenris sighed and removed his hand. "You know it isn't, though."

Anders shrugged. "I'm prepared to enjoy it until the problem is fixed."

"Well," said Fenris. "To that end, I bought you this."

Anders caught a bundle of cloth the elf had tossed to him and shook it out. It seemed to be a strange-looking jacket with long ties.

"It... wraps around you, mage," the elf said, uncomfortably. "So you can easily... unwrap. If you need to. The woman at the stall said it would be good for... maternity." Fenris seemed unable to look Anders in the eye, looking steadfastly at some spot on the back wall of the clinic.

Anders snorted. Making Fenris simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused was definitely a fringe benefit of this strange spell. To add to the discomfort, he pulled the bloodied and milk-stained tunic over his head, allowing his breasts to drop free.

He was pleased as the motion drew Fenris's gaze, which instantly darted away again.

Grinning, Anders slipped the garment on and puzzled out the arrangement of its straps. It was not as complicated as it had first appeared.

"Hmmm," he hummed, then grabbed Fenris's hand relentlessly, slipping it under one of the triangles of cloth that crossed each other under his bust. "Easy access, I see."

Fenris flushed and gave a token protest. "Mage!"

"Oh, have a grope, you know you want to."

Fenris huffed, but did not withdraw his hand. He looked down, seemingly mesmerised to find Anders' breast in his hand. Then, with a small smile, he lifted it up, making Anders breathe in and shiver with pleasure. Thumb and forefinger tweaked at the sensitive nipple. Not hard - not trying to draw milk this time - just... playing with him.

"I can't believe you're enjoying this," Fenris said, his deep voice almost breathy.

"Mmmm," said Anders, "And you wouldn't believe how good it feels, either. Maker - there's something about this creation magic. Everyone should try it."

Fenris withdrew his hand. "I think not." Then he passed Anders the large, dark cloak he had held in his other hand. "Here, put this on and let's head out. I dread to think what you'll be like if we leave you like this too long."

"Happy and well milked?" Anders teased.

"Mage!"

He laughed, and pulled the cloak about him. It truly swamped his form. He made for a tall woman, there was no denying it, but it would be good enough to get him out of the city. At least, he hoped.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments. I'm writing this partly for my own perversion, which means that updates will happen on a rather whimsical schedule, but comments keep a kinkster going :)
> 
> I actually have some thoughts about plot. This has potential to go to quite a dark and angsty place (angst is my first love), although I'm enjoying writing the silly crack fic where everyone just enjoys drinking from Anders and he loves it too, right now. Who knows if we'll ever reach the dark land of woe, but the journey will be kinky all the way.

Anders was pleasantly surprised to find that most people paid them no heed at all. A tall, cloaked woman with her hood up might not be a common sight in the warm streets of Kirkwall, but in a city rife with blood mages, Tranquil, and Templars, such a person was relatively unremarkable.

It was only as they were nearing the edge of Lowtown that their plan hit a snag. A snag in the form of a certain rather busty pirate.

"Hey," she called, "Fenris! What are you doing trying to sneak past me without even saying hello?"

Fenris was forced to turn and greet her. "I was not trying to 'sneak', I'm simply rather busy at the moment."

Isabela smirked. "So I see," she said. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your... _friend_."

Fenris's face became a blank mask. "No, we must be going-"

She laughed, "Come on, you don't get away that easily." She approached Anders. "Pardon your friend, here, my name's..." Isabela trailed off as she got close enough to see under his hood. "Anders?"

"No, that's _my_ name," he quipped, unable to resist.

"What the shit, Blondie," she said, raising her hands to grab his breasts, giving them a good squeeze before letting go. "What the _shit_?" She grabbed them again, as though to make sure of what she was feeling.

Anders squirmed under her unabashed groping.

"They're _real_?"

Isabela squeezed him a third time, making Anders shiver with arousal, his cock beginning to twitch as he desperately hoped all this attention didn't start him leaking again.

"Yes, well, I had a slight accident. We're going to see Keeper Merethari to get it sorted out."

Isabela's hands were still on his breasts, her thumbs rubbing in circles.

"Sweet Maker, you're bigger than _me_!", she said, pressing her breasts up against his, making two impressive valleys of cleavage... of which he was forced to admit, his was the bigger.

"Isabela," Fenris said, gruffly. "You're drawing attention we don't need."

She finally let go. "OK, good point. But you two don't drop a bombshell like this and then just disappear on me. Come on. You can spare a minute to give me a proper explanation back in my room."

Keen to avoid any further kind of scene, and unable to deny that hers was a fairly reasonable curiosity, Anders and Fenris allowed themselves to be dragged by Isabela back to her room in the Hanged Man.

Once the door was closed, Isabela wasted no time undoing the ties of Anders' top and revealing his heavy breasts. Anders laughed at her eagerness and wide-eyed stare. "I would have thought _you_ would have seen breasts before," he said.

"Yes, but not on a man!" she exclaimed, her eyes running over his torso, the flat planes of his stomach, his broad and manly shoulders... and his large and rounded breasts.

"There's more," Anders said a little sheepishly.

"What? You have some on the back, too?" She exclaimed.

"What? No!" He flushed at her suggestion. To distract her, he took one of his breasts in hand. It was not yet painfully full, but he could feel that it had expanded in the past hour, and it rested heavily in his hand.

Squeezing firmly with one hand, Anders pulled on his nipple with the other. It still was not as effective as a mouth suckling on him, but after a few moments, he was rewarded with a bead of milk.

"Fuck," she swore. "Is that...?"

Anders nodded, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Uhuh. I seem to be quite... productive." He flushed red, smiling, the blush reaching the tops of his breasts.

Isabela glanced between Anders and the uncomfortable-looking elf standing nearby. "Wait, have you...?" She raised her eyebrows.

Fenris looked steadfastly away from either of them.

"Oh, I have _got_ to try that," Isabela said with some enthusiasm. She gestured down at his chest. "Anders, may I?"

Almost surprised she bothered to ask, given how freely she had been groping him, Anders couldn't say he had any objections to having Isabela drink from him as Fenris had. "Sure," he said. "Just be careful with your teeth."

She laughed an sank down beside him, lifting his right breast almost reverently. Her plump lips settling on him made for a pleasantly different sensation to Fenris, causing Anders to groan even before her warm, wet tongue washed firmly over his nipple.

Then she sucked, hard, his soft flesh distending into her mouth, his milk releasing into her. He arched up into her embrace. "Oh Maker!" he groaned.

Then, before he had quite recovered from the sensation of warm, womanly lips and firm suction on his right nipple, hands were running over and cupping his left breast. Another mouth closed over him, and familiar chapped lips brushed and pressed against his areola. Fenris had taken possession of his left nipple and sucked deeply.

Anders gasped an moaned, leaning up into them.

They were both drinking from him at the same time.

Panting, he looked down on their heads. Isabela's long dark hair nestled against Fenri's soft white hair as they both nuzzled against him. Bobbing. Sucking. Feeding.

There was a certain rough possessiveness in the way Fenris had claimed his breast after Isabela started on him. Anders felt his cock grow hard as a rock. Fenris wanted him. Needed him. Was laying a claim to him.

And he was feeding both his friends so, so well.

"Oh Maker," he whispered.


	7. Chapter 7

Isabela was the first to come up for air. She let go, leaving his nipple cold, and sat back, whilst Fenris continued the delicious tug-tug-tug of suction on his other.

"You sure you're OK with this?" she asked, eyeing the elf, whose hair Anders was idly stroking.

"It's a little weird," Anders admitted, with a blissed out smile on his face. "But it feels _incredible_. I figure... why not have fun with it until I can have it dealt with properly?"

She frowned and ran a hand underneath his breast, hefting it, as if considering.

"Go on," he said. "I'll get lopsided if only one side is done."

"If you're sure it's OK," she said.

"Yes, definitely. Better to drain them properly before we set out to Sundermount anyway."

Anders shifted back on the bed, momentarily dislodging Fenris, who made a startled grunt. "Just getting more comfortable," he said. "Come on."

As he leant back against the wall, Fenris settled in again. Isabela followed suit, slipping a comforting hand under the small of his back, then closing her warm mouth over his nipple again.

Glorious suction at both his breasts, rhythmic, but mismatched. The sensation of his milk drawing down, the slightly sore tingle at his nipple where the milk was expressed. The satisfaction of knowing that his body was nurturing theirs.

It didn't take long before he ran dry. He hadn't been nearly as full as before. The suction of Fenris's mouth on his became a little stronger, more insistent, but he could no longer feel anything being drawn out of himself. Fenris gave another _suck_ ; it was erotic, but he sensed it would rapidly become uncomfortable if he went on like that.

"Come on, you're done," Anders said, pushing gently at Fenris's shoulder until his nipple slipped free from the elf's mouth, and he sat up.

Isabela finished soon after, releasing him as soon as the milk stopped flowing.

"That was something else," she said.

"Yeah." Anders looked down at his breasts, still so new and strange. He cupped them to make them sit more upright on his chest. They felt a bit looser, softer, but didn't look that much smaller for their milking. "Yeah," he said again. "Weird as fuck, but kind of good."

"Fenris," Isabela said, "why don't you go get Anders some water? If we're drinking from him, I think we need to make sure he has something to drink, too." The elf grunted, but left to do as she said. His confident, playful manner with Anders seemed to have shut down in her presence. Anders suspected Fenris was embarrassed, and sharing what had been at least a partly sexual act with Isabela was perhaps not quite so easy for him.

Anders reached for the ties of his top, but Isabela's hand stopped him.

"Oh no," she said. "You need bra."

"I... what?"

The pirate got off the bed and flipped open her trunk. "I think mine will be a little tight on you, but trust me, it will be better than nothing, and it'll help stop your blouse from staining." She threw a breast band with generous cups at him.

"I don't know..." Anders eyed the garment dubiously.

"Do you not find that they sway about as you walk?" she asked.

"Well, yes."

"This will stop that. And besides," Isabela said. "A 'lady' as well endowed as you? People can tell you're not wearing one. And they _will_ look. And you don't even want to know what it'll be like if you have to fight. Trust me. Put on the bra."

Somewhat warily, Anders slipped out of his blouse and lifted the breast band to his chest. He frowned at it, not sure how to fasten it whilst keeping it in place.

"Here," Isabela said, "Let me. I know it's weird at first, but you'll get the hang of it."

"I'd be happier if it wasn't a problem long enough for me to _have_ to get the hang of it," Anders said, but allowed her to take the bra from him and lifted his hands out of the way.

She flipped the cups down and turned the bra around so the fastenings were over his stomach. "It's much easier that way. Ignore anyone who thinks it's an achievement to put it on behind their back or take it off one-handed. Just do what makes it easiest." She showed him how to work the hooks and eyes, then turned it back round, flipped the cups up, and seated them over his boobs

He found he suddenly had even more cleavage than before.

"Wow."

"Yup," Isabela said. "You certainly are an eyeful." She tossed him his blouse. "Now, why don't you tell me how you got this way?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to ignore the fact that Dragon Age underwear simply wouldn't work for larger busted women (...which is all the women in Dragon Age, let alone Isabela and Anders - sigh). Given elastic doesn't exist and the lad probably needs a custom-made set of stays they don't have time to get made and I wouldn't be able to accurately describe... I've just gone with it.


	8. Chapter 8

The explanation didn't take long and Fenris was soon back with his drink. Anders found he _was_ quite thirsty, and made a mental note to keep hydrated as long as others were going to be feeding from him.

Of course, Isabela insisted on going with them to Sundermount. It only made sense to have another in their party if they were going out along the Wounded Coast, but there was a disconcerting gleam in her eye that made Anders sure she had other plans as well.

As they left for the main room of the Hanged Man, Anders and Fenris were trying, in so much as either of them could, to look inconspicuous, but Isabela seemed to have no such qualms. She strode confidently forward, then put a hand to her mouth in an exaggerated gesture of surprise.

"Why, Hawke," she said, loudly. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Fancy...?" A familiar figure got up from a nearby table. "Isabela, you invited me here. We were meant to meet ten minutes ago, but Corff said you were busy with guests." His heart sinking, Anders recognised another figure, much more slender, standing up behind the warrior. Merrill.

"Well," Isabela said. "I was, wasn't I? Quite _unexpected_ guests."

Hawke frowned, taking in Fenris and clearly dismissing him as not unexpected at all, and then looking Anders' way. It was strange to watch Hawke's eyes skirt down over his chest before they moved up to examine his face. Stranger still when Hawke's eyes widened in recognition, then ducked back down to confirm that the breasts he'd been ogling were attached to the same body as the head. "Anders - what?"

Another surreal moment as Hawke reached forward and gave his breasts a good _squeeze_ , pushing them up and together, then dropped them again as if burned.

"They're real!" Hawke exclaimed.

"Is this a new form of greeting?" Anders asked, flushing. "Because I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it."

Hawke clutched his hands to his chest almost comically. "Sorry," he said, eyes back down to staring at Anders' chest. "I - I just... You didn't have those yesterday."

Merrill was eyeing him shrewdly. "Is this about that mage?" she asked. "I bet it's about that mage."

"Oh," said Hawke. "Ohhhhhh. Huh. That... do you think that's happening to all those nugs, too?"

Isabela cackled and Fenris glared.

"We were _trying_ to avoid drawing attention to ourselves," the elf hissed.

"I can't see why it would happen to the nugs," Merrill said, seriously. "I'm pretty sure all the mating urges were enough. This is a bit different, isn't it? A bit more localised."

Anders shifted uncomfortably. "Anyway, we're off to Sundermount. So nice to bump into you, but..."

"Hey, hey, hey," Hawke said, looking up at his face at last. "You can't go up there alone - dangerous paths, those. Merrill and I insist on coming with you, don't we Merrill?"

"Well," Merrill began.

"I'm not going alone. Fenris and Isabela are coming with me," Anders protested.

"Oh, that's not nearly enough!" Hawke declared. "Never leave home without at least three friends, that's my motto. And I'm not going to leave Merrill behind now her plans are cancelled."

"Fine," Fenris said. "Let us move. This is... far too much attention."

Anders spared a moment to feel touched by the elf's concern, unfamiliar as it was. But then, perhaps he just didn't want to lose his new source of fresh milk. Either way, Fenris seemed to have convinced the others, and they set out at last.

***

It was a good four hours before Anders' breasts started to become really uncomfortable again. More that just being a little tender and constantly in the way.

Fenris caught him rubbing his chest, which was feeling swollen and bloated once more.

"We're stopping," the elf announced. "Time to rest."

"Fenris," Hawke said, "if we want to reach Sundermount before sundown..."

"We're not going to," Fenris stated matter of factly. "The mage needs... draining, periodically. Or it becomes painful." They had explained about Anders' lactation problem along the way.

Hawke was frowning again. "How are you going to 'drain' him exactly?"

"How do you think?" Isabela said in her most sultry, suggestive tone.

Hawke's eyes skipped down again. "Oh," he said. " _Oh_." And then, meeting Anders' eyes with a slowly spreading smile... "Can I help?"

Fenris was glaring, but said nothing. Anders smiled in spite of himself. He'd said he wanted to embrace it, so... "Why not?"

Anders slipped off his pack and began unlacing his blouse.

"Oh my!" Merrill exclaimed, quickly turning away. "I think I'll... I'll see if there's a stream nearby to fill up our water bottles with." She beat a hasty retreat as Isabela was helping Anders disrobe, undoing his bra for him and laying the merest touch of a kiss on his shoulder as his breasts fell achingly free.

He reached up to cup them and relieve some of the pressure, but his hands were soon joined by others. Hawke's large hands running greedily over his left breast as Fenris's slender fingers gently slipped under his own and took the weight from him.

"Now, don't be too rough, Hawke," Isabela was saying as she stood back to watch. "He'll be very tender."

"Is that true, Anders?" Hawke asked as he lifted the breast up towards his face and licked over the nipple. "Are you very tender?"

Anders moaned. Yes, he was. And the pleasant ache from their gentle handling, the sense of weight shifting in his distended flesh, sent a shiver through his body.

"He should sit down," Fenris said. "It will become uncomfortable quickly like this."

"There speaks the voice of experience," Isabela said wryly.

"It's common sense," Fenris snapped at her.

Hawke merely shrugged, giving his breast another careful, delicious squeeze. "OK, Anders, why don't you sit down?"

Sinking to the ground while two other people held his breasts for him was strange, but pleasant. He knew they just didn't want to stop feeling him up, but he felt, somehow, _cared for_.

Fenris surprised him by sweeping in to suckle almost as soon as they were both seated on the ground. Again he had the sense that Fenris was somehow _claiming_ him. Or his breasts, anyway. But he couldn't seem to find it in himself to mind. Especially when Fenris's warm, wet mouth was pressed against his nipple and the sweet release of _suction_ was drawing down on his breast.

Hawke was a little more hesitant, seeming indecisive about the angle to take, but he didn't take long to catch up to Fenris. The rough tickle of Hawke's whiskers on his distended, sensitive flesh, was a novelty. Somehow both irritating and stimulating.

And then Hawke was sucking down, too.

Anders gasped, his cock twitching at the strange and wonderful sensations. He was grateful that both Hawke and Fenris has slipped an arm around behind his back, as he found himself growing limp, slowly slipping backward.

The sensations were amazing, but so was the view of his large, firm breasts, propped up by the hands of his friends and swollen into firm, round hills. And at the peak of each hill was the head of someone he cared for, drinking their fill.

His cock was fully hard now. He'd lost sight of Isabela, caught up in the sensations from his chest, but found her again as inquisitive hands gently squeezed his cock through his trousers, then began tugging at his lacings.

He groaned and squirmed under the attention of all three of them, but then Fenris gave him a warning squeeze, and he stilled. If he moved too much he might dislodge them, and he didn't want that.

The sensation, when Isabela finally freed his cock and licked along his length was indescribable. But nothing to the moment when she took him deep inside her mouth, and suddenly there were three mouths locked on to him, sucking, tonguing, pulling him deep inside.

He didn't last long under their ministrations. The impulse to squirt into Isabela's mouth just as he was expressing into Fenris and Hawke became swiftly over powering. And then... then it was happening. Fluid was flowing out of him into hungry mouths in three different places, and it felt like the edges of him were blurring, that he was being absorbed by them, merging with them, sustaining them.

He cried out and spasmed and Fenris stroked a comforting hand along his belly, whilst Hawke squeezed down almost painfully on his breast.

And then they were back to quietly feeding whilst Anders panted and Isabela cleaned him up.

His softening cock was safely back inside his trousers when she came around to the other side and gently kissed his forehead.

"That was incredible," he said, looking up at her, whilst Hawke and Fenris continued to feed.

"It seemed appropriate," She said, with a smirk, and then sat and held his hand whilst the men finished.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders explore their newfound kinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mild dom/sub themes.
> 
> [Note: this is, of course, not how one should begin a dom/sub relationship. Anders and Fenris have negotiated nothing and tbh neither really knows what he wants. But no one ever accused these two of being well-adjusted. Don't do this at home. ]

By the time Merrill came back with full water skins, Anders was properly dressed again, and they were ready to go.

Hawke had surprised him by tentatively asking if they might drink from him as and when they needed it along the road. Amused by the idea, Anders had agreed, but said not for another hour at least, as it would take a while for him to fill out again.

Merrill had made a soft little huff, scowled, and shoved a water skin in his hand. "Just make sure you drink enough," she said. "It's hot out here."

And so they had gone on.

Even though it had been Hawke who had asked, Anders wasn't really surprised that Fenris was the first to take advantage of the offer.

"Mage, I am thirsty," the elf had said as they rounded the top of a hill.

"Are you now?" Anders said, coming to a halt beside him. "So soon."

The merest quirk of the elf's eyebrow. "As often as it pleases me."

 _Fuck_ , why was that so hot?

Anders lifted his arms as Fenris moved to undo the ties of his top, still a little surprised to look down and see the mountains of flesh there. He gasped as cool elven fingers slipped inside the cup of his bra and lifted his breast so that the nipple peeked over the top.

Then Fenris bent his head, pressed his lips to flesh puckering with arousal, and _sucked_.

Anders moaned softly, and shivered as Fenris's arm snaked around his back, pulling them closer together, the elf's face pressed into his flesh, the tip of one ear grazing his other breast.

Fenris did not drink long, and Anders rather felt as though the elf were making a point, rather than having a real thirst. The point was maybe to cement his status as something to be used, drunk from whenever or wherever the craving hit. Or perhaps simply to ensure that Fenris drank from him first in this new role. That Hawke was not the one to determine how Anders' magic, lactating breasts were to be used.

Either way, Anders had a niggling feeling that he should have minded, but he really didn't.

It was silly - funny even - and something about the submissive role turned him on.

And, however weird it was, it was nice to be getting on with Fenris.

"What was _that_ about?" Isabela asked as they got moving again.

Anders smirked. "Turns out the grumpy elf is a bit of a breast man."

"He's a bit of a _your_ breasts man," the pirate said. Then went on, a hint of genuine concern in her voice: "It doesn't bother you? I'd have thought he was the last person you'd want to be treating you like that."

The smirk broke into a grin. "Oh, he's a bigoted, mage-hating grumpy elf," Anders said she a shrug, "But there's no denying he's attractive. I rather like having him paw at me like I have something he needs."

Isabela gave him a side-long glance, then laughed. "It's your body."

"That it is," he said. "It's a bit of a weird body right now, but I'm determined to enjoy it."

"OK, well, try not to disturb Merrill too much, I think she's seen enough for one day."

***

When they camped for the night it had been a few hours since anyone had drunk from him, and he was feeling a little full. Hawke called Anders over to where he was unpacking his bag and began undoing the ties to his top.

"You're sure you're OK with this?" Hawke asked, a little flushed.

Anders rolled his eyes. "Yes, Hawke; I wouldn't have agreed to it if I wasn't."

His fingers being rather thicker and stubbier than Fenris's, Hawke didn't try to scoop a breast out from its cup, he simply reached behind Anders, undid his bra, and let the mage's breasts hang free. His nipples contracted to stiff peaks.

Then Hawke's mouth, hot and wet, was pressed to his breast, and sucking. Intellectually, Anders new Hawke's mouth was not that much bigger than Fenris's, but Maker, it _felt_ different. Huge and sucking, the warm tongue lathing over him, his milk positively spurting out under the pressure.

Anders groaned.

And then the mouth was wrenched free, the suction leaving Anders gasping and unsteady on his feet. Fenris had pulled Hawke away and was standing between them now.

"These are mine," the elf said, and there was no question what he was talking about.

Hawke stared, blinking between the two of them. "I think you'll find they belong to Anders," Hawke said, looking over Fenris's shoulder to meet his gaze.

But Anders had felt a kind of thrill at Fenris's possessiveness. "No, Hawke," he found himself saying. "He's right. They're his."

Hawke stood there, spluttering for a few seconds. "I - you - what?"

"It's OK, Hawke," Isabela called from across the campfire. "Let them play."

"But... did you hear that?"

"Yes," Isabela said, setting up the cooking pot. "They're having fun, let them get on with it. Come over here and help me get dinner on."

Reluctantly, and with several concerned and irritated glances, Hawke stumbled away.

Anders found himself semi-hard from all the attention, waiting to see what Fenris would say next.

Finally the elf turned. "You will sleep in my tent tonight," Fenris said, not looking at him.

"Yes."

"And you will stop wearing this thing," he kicked at the bra. "I don't like it. It gets in the way." He lifted a hand to fondle one of Anders' breasts, and their eyes met.

"It actually does help, you know, when we're walking," Anders said, his cock twitching as lyrium-lined fingers manipulated his flesh.

Fenris tilted his head, considering. "Then you may wear it when we are on the road," he decided. "But not tonight."

Anders nodded, and Fenris released him and walked away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, this weird little fic is getting quite long, and I have plans for it to get longer and weirder. Comments are candy that help buoy up the spirits of a kinkster writing outside her comfort zone, but I know not everyone will feel OK with commenting out in the open on AO3 on a particularly kinky fic. I am still copying all new chapters to the Kink Meme, so it you wanna comment completely on anon, do feel free to do so there :) http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13010.html?thread=55998162#t55998162
> 
> You can all have a good lol about how I said it was gonna be a mini-fill originally, too.

As they settled down around the campfire for the night, Anders sat between Fenris's legs, the elf's arms around him, his hands cupping his breasts. Like a hand-shaped bra. A bra that raised his breasts high on his chest, squeezed and rubbed them, occasionally gently tweaked his nipples.

Fenris rested his head on Anders' shoulder, their ears rubbing against one another. "They're quite beautiful," he murmured into Anders' ear.

Anders gazed down at his mounds. Squeezed and supported by Fenris's hands. Claimed by them. Owned by them. He shivered deliciously.

Held up and together by the elf, his breasts did make for an entirely beautiful cleavage. He was aware of both Hawke and Isabela admiring it in sly glances. Merrill was... less interested. Appeared to be trying to ignore the display they were making of him. He knew he should be more embarrassed by it. Public displays of affection could make anyone uncomfortable at even the best of times, and he and Fenris were being quite ridiculous. But, _damn_ if he didn't enjoy being held like this. Used like this. In public, too. Knowing how much Isabela, and Hawke especially, wished they could touch him the way Fenris was.

Justice was strangely quiet on the matter. The constant presence of raw lyrium touching them, surrounding them, holding them close, did much to sooth the spirit.

Anders trailed a finger down the rounded curve of one of his breasts, then buried it deep within his cleavage, revelling in the soft warm press of flesh as Fenris pushed his breasts in about him.

The elf moved his mouth close to his ear, lips and breath brushing over the sensitive skin, making his cock twitch.

"Would you like to feel my cock there?"

Anders turned his head to look at him. Of all the things he'd never thought to hear Fenris say... and _fuck_ to hear such words spoken in Fenris's deep, rumbling voice. A voice that made him want to take Fenris's head and squeeze it between his breasts that he might feel that rumble as a vibration in them.

Yes, he wanted to feel Fenris there.

Wanted to feel his cock there, ploughing between his soft hills of flesh.

"Yes," he breathed, looking into Fenris's wide green eyes.

"Tonight?"

"Ah," Anders glanced around the camp. "I don't know. This... this is definitely fun, but I don't know I want to be quite _that_ debauched where everyone can hear us."

"Hmm," Fenris sat up, away from him, and Anders felt a slight pang at the absence of Fenris's chin on his shoulder. "I take your point."

They lapsed into silence again until the stew Isabela had prepared was finally ready. She came over to them with two bowls, but he felt the movement as Fenris shook his head behind him. "I have my food right here," he said, squeezing Anders' full, ripe breasts.

Anders flushed bright red. "That's a... nice sentiment, Fenris, but you're not actually an infant. You need solid food."

Isabela rolled her eyes, holding both bowls out. "Sort it out between you."

Fenris's hands left his breasts, which felt strange and unsupported in their absence. He took both bowls from Isabela and tipped half of his into Anders'. "You are eating for two, now, mage," he said, and _Maker_ it was idiotic, but undeniably hot.

Anders took his bowl from Fenris's hands, rested it on top of his breasts, and began eating.

Fenris had to lean back and to the side to eat his own food, which left an emptiness around Anders, but it thankfully didn't last long. Fenris was back to supporting and caressing his breasts before Anders was finished eating.

The gentle tweaking of his nipples as he ate reminded Anders that a portion of this food would be converted to milk to fill up his breasts, and feed Fenris.

His cock was definitely stirring now.

Merrill finished her food quickly and stood. "I'm turning in," she said to Isabela and Hawke, pointedly ignoring the groping that was going on on the opposite side of the fire.

"Oh, now, Daisy..." Isabela began.

"They can do what they like, Isabela, but I don't need to watch it."

The pirate sighed, glancing down at the slight tenting of Anders' pants. "Maybe you'd better take it inside, boys. I'm sure you'd enjoy the privacy, too."

A part of Anders wanted to protest, to say that he'd be happier still if they all had a handful, or just drank from him as they liked. Unbidden images sprang into his mind of four sets of hands rubbing all over him, competing for space on his breasts, pulling at him, urging the milk that was filling him up, making his skin taught and his breasts ache, to spill from him, lapped up by multiple tongues... He shook his head to free himself from the image.

He _should_ probably be worried about this.

Maybe Isabela was right.

With a sigh, he heaved himself to his feet, groaning as his unsupported breasts ached from the movement and pull of gravity. "Come on," he said to Fenris, holding out his hand to pull the elf to his feet.

Fenris paused a moment, leaning down to suck on the slope of his breast left bare by his blouse, then took his hand and led him back to his tent.

Once inside, Fenris spared no time in reaching across to undo the ties of his top, baring his breasts, revealing a slight dribble of milk that spilled from one.

"They are... strangely fascinating," Fenris confessed. The elf's compelling confidence, which had dominated his movements since they had set out on the coast, fractured a little. He ducked his head, neither looking at Anders' breasts nor his face. "I... I've been very presumptuous. I don't really know why." He cleared his throat. "If you'd like me to stop-"

"No," Anders said swiftly. "I like it. I don't really know why either, but I do. Maybe it... makes it less weird. You seem... very confident. It's like... it can't be that strange if you're so sure... I don't know."

"You don't mind, then," Fenris said, lifting a hand to cup and support one breast, the shift in pressure it caused within him a beautiful ache. "You don't mind if I say they are mine. For me."

Anders shook his head. "Part of me... part of me has these strange ideas. Like I want to be used by everybody. All the time. I'm... pretty sure that's not a good thing. The idea that they belong to you. That you control who touches me, drinks from me. It's comforting. Like you're protecting me."

Fenris let go of his breasts and seemed to sag a little, but he looked relieved. "Good. Thank you. I _will_ protect you. No one will touch you unless I permit it." Fenris straightened and looked him in the eye. "Now, lay down. You are past time for a feeding."

A slow smile creeping over his face, Anders lay back on his bedroll, enjoying the full shift of his breasts as he moved, the way they sat, pert and bloated as pink-tipped hills when he layed down.

Fenris leaned over him, ran cool, lyrium lined fingers in a circle around his left breast, making the nipple pucker painfully, then bent in, and _sucked_.

Anders gave a high-pitched moan to feel the sweet, sweet soreness and pressure as his milk let down again. He squirmed until Fenris's hand pressed down upon his ribs and held him still. He gasped as Fenris sucked, and sucked, and sucked. Hearing the elf swallow his milk, his breath through his nose. The intermittent wash of his tongue over his nipple.

The milk seemed to flow more freely, now. And though his nipples seemed constantly sore from the repeated abuse, it was a pleasant discomfort. And Fenris was getting better at this. He no longer tried to use his teeth. He paused just often enough to allow them both to catch their breath, blowing on Anders' nipple to cool the milk and saliva that covered it.

His gentle squeezing was enough to cause an ache, but not pain. And he continued with his trick of draining one breast deeply whilst the other remained full and taut, keeping Anders on edge and in need of attention.

This time he did not touch Anders' cock. Anders didn't know if that was a relief or a frustration. Although he was hard and gasping, he had a sense that they both felt it would be strange for either of them to orgasm whilst others were listening.

Instead, Fenris simply drank his fill, and Anders felt a sort of pride in how well he was able to feed the elf, stroking his soft hair as he suckled.

Fenris saved the last mouthful for him. Dragging down _hard_ and making Anders cry out in spite of himself, then leaving the nipple cold, the elf moved up to look down at Anders, his mouth closed and filmed with milk.

Anders opened wide, and felt the milk dribble into him - rich and creamy and _his_. Made by his body. Himself.

He swallowed and closed his eyes, feeling his milk wash down, warm inside him. Wondering idly how much of it would be converted back into more milk as it passed through him.

Then Fenris's lips were on his own, which parted to let the elf's tongue dive in, and they were kissing in a mess of his milk, both of them tasting of him, warm and delicious.

"Thank you," Fenris said, quietly, when the kiss broke. "I will take care of you until you are back to normal. I swear it."

Fenris lay down beside him then, and held his hand. A strange kind of peace settled over them both. No one had ever made him feel so safe. Not even Justice, whose fierce protection could itself be a danger.

A part of him didn't ever want this to stop. He pushed it away, and drifted off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has a surprise for Anders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I was going to move on to focus on the Fenders, but I got a sense from the comments that people would like to see a little more of other people getting to play. Here is a little bit more for you, lovely commenters.
> 
> Next chapter we should get to the Dalish camp, however, and plot... plot will happen.

The soft drag, drag, drag on his nipple had Anders squirming before he was fully awake.

Then coldness, and someone stroking his hair.

"Shhhh."

He opened his eyes. "Fenris?"

"You looked full," the elf said, ducking his head bashfully in the dim light of the tent. "You were leaking in your sleep. I was hungry." Then, more forcefully. "We agreed these are mine." Lyrium lined fingers ran possessively from one breast to the other. Anders shivered and his nipples tightened.

He laughed. "Yes, they are yours." Maker, it was so hot to say that. To think of a part of his body as owned by someone else. Two parts. He felt a murmur of disquiet from Justice, but only a murmur. Their skin sang with the song of lyrium wherever Fenris touched them, and he was content. "You should drink from them if you're hungry," Anders added, reassuring Fenris.

He reached a hand up the elf's slender neck and guided his head back down to his breast.

Fenris kept eye contact with Anders as he licked milk away from his nipple, and then latched on again. Dark green eyes looking black in the dim light, seen through a fringe of startling white. And Fenris's mouth. He could see Fenris's mouth over his nipple. Watch the tensions in it as the elf sucked, and he felt the liquid being drawn out of him.

It might have been the most erotic thing he had ever seen. If he had not had morning wood before, he certainly did now.

Perhaps the elf felt it. His body shifted, and now Fenri's knee rested against his groin, pressing on the hard length there, then rubbing.

Anders began to squirm again, but Fenris's hands shifted fast to pin him at the shoulders. And the whole time he never stopped looking at Anders. Looking, and sucking.

And the revelation that he could now feed someone else with his body washed over him again as strange and wonderful and disquieting.

Eventually Fenris relaxed, shifted so his hand was on Anders' cock, gently squeezing and rubbing. And he closed his eyes, his features softening as he gave himself over to the feeding.

The rhythm of his hand on Anders' cock was teasing, enough to keep him hard, never quite enough to bring him over the edge. His suckling on Anders' breast was a gentler, less needy thing than it had been before. There was a kind of communion to it. Anders found himself relaxing into it, becoming absorbed in its rhythm. He laced his fingers through Fenris's hair, stroking through the softness there.

When Fenris finally drained the last from his left breast, he sat up and smiled down at him. Anders was semi-hard, throbbing, but happy to allow Fenris to take his time.

"You enjoy this," Fenris said.

"Yes."

"Good." He ran a finger idly around the edge of Anders' right breast, still achingly full, looking pert and swollen and noticeably larger than the other. One finger pressed deeper into the breast and it jiggled delightfully. They both smiled.

Then Fenris withdrew his hand, reached for his tunic, and began to dress.

"Hey," Anders said, frowning.

"What?" Fenris said, his face a blank deadpan as it emerged from the neck hole.

"Finish me off," Anders said, a little indignant.

"No," Fenris replied, beginning to pull on his leggings. "I'm full. And I like you like that." A slow smile spread across the elf's face as his eyes ran across Anders' now uneven breasts.

"Lopsided?"

Fenris shrugged. "It is amusing," he said, in his dry tone.

"You bastard!" Anders slapped his arm. "Stop teasing - get on with it!"

"No," Fenris repeated. Then he sat back, appearing to think. "Perhaps I will allow one of the others to drink from it later. Have them ask me, and we'll see."

"You'll _allow_...?"

"Yes," Fenris said, flipping the stirrup of one of his leggings under his foot. "We agreed. These are mine. And I want them like this. But there will be milk left over for someone else if they want it, so if they ask, I might share. I haven't decided yet."

"It _hurts_ ," Anders said.

Fenris's eyes ran over his chest, assessing. "No, not so much, not yet. You've definitely been fuller than this before. Besides, I know you enjoy them aching, at least a little bit."

Anders groaned. The elf was right, but he didn't care to admit it.

Fenris touched his hand, serious for a moment. "You can change your mind, any time," he said. "Just say they're yours again, and they are."

Anders sighed. "Right."

"Still mine?"

"Yes."

"Good." Fenris gave his full, right breast a playful tap, then got to his feet and left the tent.

***

Dressing with one breast round and full, and the other feeling softer and a little smaller, felt strange, but at least the difference between the two was less noticeable when he was wearing a bra. Even less so when he had wrapped the two crossing sides of his top about him. Anders was able to leave the tent with relative dignity.

They took down the camp and set out again with little issue, and Anders managed walking for a while without too much discomfort. But as the morning wore on, the pressure building inside him became ever present. He began furtively rubbing at his chest whenever he felt he could do so without being noticed. It wasn't surprising, then, that there soon came to be a growing damp patch visible on his blouse.

He caught Hawke glancing at it and heat rose it his cheeks.

They walked on a little ways more before Hawke said anything, but finally he stopped, frowning. "Didn't Fenris take care of you this morning?" he asked.

"I did," Fenris answered for him. "But I have decided the right side is for guests." The dryness of his voice could easily be mistaken for seriousness, but there was a light in Fenris's eyes that made Anders pretty sure that the grumpy elf thought this was hilarious.

Apparently, Isabela thought so, too, as she began cackling. Merrill, rather less so.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" she exclaimed, and set off walking ahead of them again.

"Oh, Daisy, no!" Isabela cried, going after her, still chuckling away.

"'For guests'? Really?" Hawke asked, looking between the two of them.

Anders shrugged. "He didn't tell me why he left that side alone, but I don't mind."

"You keep rubbing at it and it's leaking, but you don't mind?"

He shrugged again. He sort of wished Hawke would just get on and accept it and stop asking questions.

Hawke sighed. "Fine, then. If I'm a 'guest', can I help you out with that?"

"Ask Fenris," Anders said, feeling a little of Fenris's humour, too, as he saw the exasperation in Hawke's expression.

"Fenris," Hawke said, a feather away from gritting his teeth. "Please may I drink from Anders' 'guest breast'?"

The minutest crinkle around Fenris's eyes let on to his mirth at getting Hawke to say that.

Anders snorted.

"Yes, Hawke," Fenris said, somehow retaining his deadpan. "You may."

Anders lifted his arms and allowed Hawke to undo is blouse, and then his bra, too. Unable to quite restrain a hiss as his now quite sore 'guest breast' swang free.

Hawke shot Fenris an irritated glance, but then turned his focus back to Anders' chest.

He cupped the tender, swollen flesh much more gently than he had the first time, then bent to press his lips to Anders nipple.

The first tweak of suction made Anders gasp with pain and relief. The tickle and scratch of Hawke's beard against his tight skin was an irritant, but he didn't care. The sensation of liquid being drawn out of him - of his breast being drained at last - was sublime.

It must have been an awkward angle for Hawke, but Anders was too caught up in the sensation to suggest that they sit.

Hawke did not drain him, but after several minutes of gentle sucking, he pulled away and looked Anders in the face. "Is that enough? I don't want the girls to get too far ahead."

Anders smiled. "Much better, thank you."

"Just ask, any time you're feeling thirsty," Fenris added.

Hawke rolled his eyes. "But ask you, not him."

"That's right," Fenris said.

Hawke sighed. "Sure, fine, OK. I will," he said, and then he stalked off after Isabela and Merrill, leaving Fenris to guard Anders whilst he covered himself again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, so, more under-negotiated kink. Obligatory reminder not to take this as endorsement: don't wake someone up with a sex act if they haven't agreed to it first.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris says goodbye to Anders' breasts, and Anders finally sees the Dalish keeper to see what can be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some slight transphobic language from Anders in talking about men not having breasts - he means cis men. And he's not entirely right about that either, but he's feeling emotional and very much thinking about his own body.

Anders' companions fed from him twice more before they reached the Dalish camp.

The first was Isabela. She seemed to understand that he enjoyed being used and was thoroughly enamoured with the game he was playing with Fenris. With none of Hawke's tact, she simply sidled up to Anders, slung an arm around his shoulders, and squeezed is right breast.

“I’m _thirsty_ , Fenris,” she complained, pushing his breasts together and rubbing them against one another. Anders restrained the urge to gasp with arousal, waiting on Fenris’s response.

The elf glanced at her hand, and then shrugged. “Help yourself,” he said.

Isabela squeezed again and Anders moaned, feeling a dribble of liquid spurt from his nipple under the pressure.

With a wicked grin, she span him about, tugged open his top and pulled down the lip of his bra cup, exposing his nipple. Her generous lips quickly enveloped it, and she sucked.

This was not the sensuous experience her feeding from him had been before. Suction tugged rapidly in an almost business-like way. Like he was a water flask she was quenching her thirst with. The thought made him go weak at the knees.

He was just something to drink from.

Or his breasts were, anyway.

She broke from him in a perfunctory fashion and tucked him away, but couldn’t resist dropping him a saucy wink and kissing him on the cheek with milk-filmed lips.

“Thanks, Fenris!” she called as she parted from him. “That really hit the spot.”

The second time, of course, was Fenris himself.

As familiar landscape told them they were nearing the camp, Fenris came over and touched his elbow, calling him to a halt.

“You go on ahead,” he called to the others. “I need to talk to Anders for a moment.”

Isabela snorted. “‘Talk’ – OK.”

Once the others had all turned their backs and started to move away, Fenris pulled Anders over to a nearby tree and pushed him against it. He buried his face in Anders’ cleavage and ran his hands down the side of his chest before pushing Anders’ breasts together, up and into his face.

Anders groaned, and felt Fenris plant a kiss in the cleft between his breasts.

Finally, the elf pulled back. “I suppose you should have these back,” he said, lifting and pushing them together. They were roughly the same size again now; not too full, but not empty either.

Anders sighed. “I suppose I better had.” He reached up and rested a hand on Fenris’s neck. “This has been fun, though.”

Fenris squeezed him gently, and his thumbs rubbed small circles on each of his breasts through the fabric of his blouse and bra. “One last drink, before the Dalish witch takes these away?” he asked.

Anders smiled. “Please.”

Fenris undid his top and unclasped his bra, letting Anders’ breasts drop free.

“Strange and beautiful,” he murmured, eyes on Anders’ chest, and not his face.

Then he bent in, captured a nipple with his mouth, and pressed against Anders. One hand clasped Anders’ back, holding their bodies together, and the other roamed his body: down his straight sides, across his firm abdominal muscles, down over his stiffening cock. He seemed to be cataloguing the maleness of the rest of Anders’ body as he sucked at his breast. This clash of sensation while Fenris suck, suck, sucked on his breast, warm milk flowing out of him, was ecstatic.

Fenris did not drain the breast. “You’ll want to be able to show the Dalish keeper,” he said, squeezing Anders’ nipple regretfully, making Anders squirm at the pressure on the sensitive flesh.

He sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

Fenris’s eyebrow twitched, “But you should be roughly equal, I think.”

Anders grinned, and gave a soft gasp as Fenris latched on again. It was a blissful kind of communion, Fenris’s tongue lapping over him, the gentle sucking, and the answering flow that he had never expected to experience.

“Oh, Fenris,” he moaned, stroking Fenris’s soft white hair and leaning back against the tree.

When it was over, Fenris kissed him, the taste of his milk on the elf’s tongue. He wondered how things would change between them when the breasts were gone. Would this strange truce and affectionate play be gone,too? He found himself rather hoping it would not.

“Come,” Fenris said, pulling away, “We should rejoin the others.”

With a little something like sadness, Anders nodded and followed.

***

Anders had not put the bra back on after his tryst with Fenris. They were close enough to the camp now that battle seemed unlikely, and, after all, the strangeness of his body was exactly what they had come here to display.

He caught the odd looks of the elves as they noted both his breasts and his stubbled beard. But they said nothing. The clan knew Hawke well by now, so they weren’t challenged as they made their way towards Marethari.

“ _Andaran atish’an_ , Hawke,” she said as they approached. “We meet again so soon.” Her eyes glanced briefly at Anders, but then returned to Hawke. Heat flushed Anders’ face and neck.

Hawke sighed, “It seems my companion was hit by some of the creation magic Ellana was spilling over the countryside when last we met. It has had an… unusual effect. We were hoping you could advise on how best to… undo it.”

The keeper gave Anders a closer look, then nodded. “I’ll need to examine you,” she said to him.

Anders swallowed, then nodded.

“Come,” she said, and led him away to an aravel, which he had to stoop to enter.

The inside was homely, but neatly kept, and smelt of familiar herbs. The creation mage was there, a young human woman with mousy hair.

“It seems your magic has caused more mischief, Ellana,” the keeper said with fondness.

The girl, who had been staring wide-eyed at Anders’ chest, ducked her head, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I’m in control of it now, I promise.”

Anders took a seat and shrugged uneasily. “Well, as long as you can undo it, I don’t mind.”

“Is it just your chest?” the keeper asked.

Anders flushed. “Uh, yes. Although it’s also… it’s not just…” he looked down. They were both healers, maybe not spirit healers, but they understood about bodies, he should be able to detach himself and talk about his. He took a deep breath and let it out. “They’re… lactating. I am. I’m lactating.”

It was a credit to Marethari’s experience that no reaction showed in her face. “I see,” she said, levelly.

The young mage was openly staring. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It’s OK,” Anders said to her. “I mean, I want it fixed, but… I’m a healer myself. I understand what happened. I’m just not sure how to… reverse it.”

“May I examine you?” the keeper asked.

Anders cleared his throat. “Of course. Do you need me too…” he gestured at his clothes.

“Please,” she said. “Just the top, though. If you’re sure it’s not affected anything else.”

He nodded. “No, that’s all… normal.”

Not looking at either of them, he carefully undid his blouse and removed it. It was warm in the aravel, but his nipples puckered to be exposed.

“May I touch you?” the keeper asked.

Anders nodded, not looking up. Perhaps it was strange to be embarrassed after so many people had touched and groped and fed from him over the past few days, but he didn’t know either of these women particularly well. And, he realised, the nervousness and worry he had been covering with humour and sex was all about this moment. This moment when someone with actual knowledge would be touching him and letting him know if he could, in fact, be fixed.

Her hands on his flesh were cool, and her touch made him jump.

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s fine, you’re doing fine,” she murmured, pressing gently against him, feeling for abnormalities. “They look quite normal – healthy. A little red around the nipples, maybe, but you say you’ve been producing milk?”

He nodded, still avoiding her gaze. “I can show you, if that would help…”

She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary, if you’ll allow me to use a little magic to examine you as well.”

He nodded again, relieved. “Of course.”

He felt the familiar rush of energy, and his breasts tingled, then the keeper sat back. “Yes, I can feel it. Has it been uncomfortable?”

Anders snorted. “They, uh, ache, quite a bit. When they’re full. And my nipples have become quite sore.” _Please don’t ask me how I’m draining them_.

Fortunately, she did not.

“Ellana,” Marethari said, “Would you like to examine them?”

“Oh!” Anders glanced up at her; she looked quite worried. “Do you really think I should? I don’t want to make things worse."

“No dear,” the keeper said. “You’ll be fine. You have much better control over it now and you might have some insight, as atuned as you are to creation magic.”

The young woman shuffled forward and laid her hands on his breasts. Her touch was warmer, perhaps a little less clinical than Marethari’s had been. In other circumstances it might have been rather nice.

Then she closed her eyes, and he felt the warm wash of creation magic on him again. There was a spike of fear as his mind filled with unwanted visions of his breasts growing again, spilling out of her hands, but nothing happened. She was only looking.

She released him and pulled back, her cheeks pink.

“He seems… fine,” she said to Marethari, then glanced at Anders. “You seem fine. Normal.”

He raised an eyebrow. “This is definitely not normal.”

“No,” Marethari said, evenly. “But I felt the same. Your body is not in tension with the new growth. To all intents and purposes, they’re a perfectly normal pair of breasts.”

“How can my body not be in tension with it?” he said, starting to worry, now – what were they saying? “I’m a man. Men don’t have breasts.”

Marethari folded her arms under her own chest. “Some do. Men have all the same glands and tissue as women. As a healer, I’m sure you know this. You must have seen the odd man with extra padding in that area.”

“Yes,” he said, “but not like _this_.” He gestured across his breasts, and was uncomfortably aware of the movement this caused. “And not with… with _milk_.”

She shrugged. “It can happen. It’s not unheard of amongst the Dalish, although it’s usually temporary. As, indeed, it is with women. It might be uncomfortable for a few weeks, but if you can resist trying to drain it, the lactation should eventually stop.”

“But, wait – no.” What was she saying? “Can’t you just… what about the breasts? Surely you must know a way to… undo this?”

Marethari sighed. “I’m sorry, shem. But it isn’t a spell keeping you this way. The creation magic stimulated the growth, and probably your milk glands, too, but the magic has completely dissipated. You shouldn’t experience any further changes, but as far as your body is concerned, everything is as it is meant to be. Creation magic can stimulate the body, can help it find an equilibrium when it is out of balance, but you aren’t out of balance. If we had caught this early we might have neutralised the stimulation, but now… All I can suggest is that you avoid stimulating your breasts further to discourage the milk production.”

He stared at her. “I can’t… Do you know what the Templars would do to me if they saw _this_. I can’t… there must be something.”

She shook her head, sadly. “I have heard the shems have ‘surgeons’ who can cut into flesh to remove unwanted growths. It is not something we practice, but with a good healer present as well, perhaps…”

“Those butchers?” Anders said, appalled. “No! Surely magic – surely there must be some way…”

She put a hand on his knee and he flinched.

“We will leave you alone for a space,” she said, quietly. “Take whatever time you need. Come, Ellana.”

He barely registered the breeze from the open door as they left. His hands moved up to clutch his breasts and hold them too him. Surely this wasn’t real. It had been a dream, a game.

_I said you should have gone to the keeper sooner._

“That is _not helping_ , Justice!”

How was he supposed to live like this? How could he possibly live like this in a city like _Kirkwall_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone thought this story was coming to an end... NO IT IS NOT. *evil author laughter*


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to face his friends after learning that his new breasts cannot be removed by the Keeper, Anders flees the camp, refusing to talk to anyone.
> 
> Unfortunately, walking off alone on the Wounded Coast is a very bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the fic is going to take a much darker turn following on from this chapter. If you're here for relatively harmless kinkery, you might want to stop here and just enjoy the first 12 chapters. But if you like dark fics and want to see this kink explored to its fullest extent, I hope you'll still enjoy it.
> 
> I didn't have any intention for this fic to develop plot when I started, so apologies that I didn't warn for this at the beginning - I didn't know we would end up here.
> 
> I wanted to get into some of the more extreme areas of this kink, so, going forward, please be aware that the fic will contain non-con and more extreme elements of dominance and submission (not safe, sane or consensual in the proper, BDSM sense) and objectification, including slavery. I know slavery is a difficult topic, I do not intend in any way to present slavery as positive and it is not romanticised. Nor is what will follow this chapter intended to be presented as realistic. If you're worried at all about these themes, please consider the rest of this fic Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Aware he could not hide in the aravel forever, Anders dressed and steeled himself. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and set a fast pace past the group of his friends and the elves, away from the camp.

"Anders-" Hawke called as he passed, but he didn't stop.

He didn't want to talk to Hawke right now. Couldn't. He just had to get away.

His breasts jiggled uncomfortably at the fast pace, and Anders brushed tears from his face at the reminder. The reminder that he would be stuck with this forever. The discomfort. The stares. At least until he was caught and made tranquil.

Because there was nothing that said magic like a pair of freakishly large breasts on a man.

He heard someone running to catch up with him.

"Anders!"

Fenris.

"Fuck off," he said, not looking back.

"Anders, wait." The elf pulled level and put a hand on his shoulder.

He wrenched himself free. "Don't touch me!"

Fenris raised his hands in submission. "I apologise," he said. "But you cannot walk off alone, it is too dangerous on Sundermount, you know this."

"You _don't own me_ ," Anders spat.

Anger flashed in Fenris's eyes. "You think I don't know that? I never did. We had a game; the game is over."

"But you still think you can tell me where to go and how to behave," Anders said. "You still think you'll be able to help yourself to my body whenever you like. You're probably fucking delighted I'm stuck like this!"

The little crease in Fenris's brow might have been sadness. "No, mage," he said. "Marethari didn't say, I - I'm sorry."

Anders couldn't bear the attention anymore, he was hyper-aware of his breasts, even if Fenris was actually looking at his face for a change. "I don't want your pity," he said, "I want you to leave me alone." He set off again, down the mountain.

Fenris didn't try to stop him, but he continued to follow. After a while he was aware that the others were following, too, at a distance. Even their consideration was maddening. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to be back to normal. He wanted to turn back time and tell the Keeper about the magic that had washed over his chest the moment it had happened so she could have stopped the change in its tracks.

He couldn't do any of those things, so he walked on.

Inevitably, the pressure within his chest began to grow again. The bobbing of his fast pace became uncomfortable for his tender breasts.

He ignored it.

When damp patches appeared on his blouse and he felt the warm trickle of milk down his skin, he ignored that, too.

The ache became a throb, and then a stabbing pain. His pace slowed, but he kept walking.

Footsteps behind told him someone was catching up. He glanced behind him.

Fucking Fenris.

"Mage," Fenris said. "Mage, it has been hours. We passed noon some time ago. We should stop for lunch."

"So you can drink from me, is that it?" Anders glared as the elf drew level.

Fenris's eyes trailed down the damp fabric of his top. "Are you not in pain? I only want to help."

"No!" Anders sped up again, and was furious when Fenris matched his pace.

"Anders, you haven't drunk anything for hours, it is too hot out here. You need to rest."

"I said 'No'!" he shouted.

Fenris held out a water flask. "At least take this."

Anders glowered, but now the elf mentioned it, his throat was dry. The idea of putting more liquid into his body to make more milk made him shudder, but he sighed and took it. "Now piss off," he said.

Fenris looked hurt. Perhaps he shouldn't be taking it out on the man like this, but just looking at him brought back memories of being treated like a thing, a possession, which no longer seemed erotic. To his relief, the elf dropped back again.

Really, he had no one to blame but himself when he walked into the ambush.

The men who emerged from the dunes as though from nowhere were far better armed and armoured than the usual bandits and ruffians that dogged the Wounded Coast. They moved with coordination and speed, and seemed to be backed by several powerful mages. Already tired and sore from the harsh pace he had set himself, Anders found his mana swiftly depleting. Dressed in the clothes of an ordinary woman, he had none of the protections or strengths provided by the echantments on his coat and he was missing the lyrium potions he usually kept to hand on his belt. Not to mention that the painful sway of his breasts was a distraction that threw off his balance and his usually graceful fighting style.

By the time the rest of the party reached him he no longer had mana for offensive spells and was not able to maintain the panacea he usually provided for his companions when he stepped back from a fight.

The others put up a good fight, several of the fighters falling, and Merrill taking out one of the mages, but without a healer to restore them, they were soon overwhelmed.

Fenris charged on, hacking uselessly at a mage's shield, until another mage stepped out from behind a stack of rocks, and the warrior stopped dead, staring.

" _Danarius_ ," Fenris said, fierce hatred in his voice. He lifted his sword again and went for the mage with a running leap, but, his resistance lowered, the elf was easily caught in a crushing prison.

Anders panted in shock, sucked desperately at the new mage, trying and failing to draw mana from him.

Danarius glanced his way, and the magister smiled. "I had heard you were running with some strange people, my pet, but really, I had no idea."

From the corner of his eye, Anders could see a movement that might have been Isabela, attempting to sneak into a better position. He schooled his eyes not to look and give her away.

Danarius moved over to Fenris, a hand reaching up to caress Fenris's face as he twitched under the pressure of magical forces. "You know, to attack your master is punishable by death. You are lucky, my Little Wolf, that I am so forgiving."

Anders felt a moment of hope as Isabela came level with the magister, but in that moment he turned, lightning fast freezing her with ice. Hawke cried out and charged, only to find himself petrified and rooted to the spot. Too late and useless, Anders sent a pathetic blast of what remained of his mana at the man, before he found himself caught in a paralysis glyph.

This was a mage who liked control.

"Move quickly," Danarius barked to his surviving servants. "We'll take this one, too," he said, walking up to Anders. "Get the anti-magic collar."

A hand travelled up his torso until it reached his breast, then hefted it. _Squeezed_. The other hand reached down and cupped his flacid cock. Anders was helpless to stop any of it.

"Aren't _you_ interesting?" Danarius murmured. The magister's eyes were focused on his breasts, and as he plucked at the damp fabric there, Anders knew he had no hope of concealing his other secret. The magister's thumb and forefinger tweaked Anders' nipple harshly. The pain was exquisite. Had his vocal chords not been frozen by Danarius's spell, he would have screamed. He felt Justice struggling to rise within him, but the paralysis glyph held him, too.

The magister stepped back as one of the fighters approached with a dark and bulky colar.

"We'll get you something prettier with time," Danarius said. "But this will do for now."

As stiff leather and hard metal closed on his throat, Anders' magic became a muted and distant thing.

And he couldn't feel Justice at all.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders tries to resist Danarius and is told to expect punishment. Danarius enjoys the pleasures of his new toy.

The slavers had walked him and Fenris right out from amongst their friends, who had been easily rendered unconscious by a mind blast.

Anders had tried to struggle, but exhausted, chained, and without his magic, there was little he could do.

Fenris, however, did nothing. They had fitted him with a collar of a dark grey metal Anders didn't recognise. It was etched with unfamiliar runes and tall enough to restrict the movement of his neck. Something to inhibit the powers granted by the lyrium in his skin, Anders supposed, but Fenris was quite a formidable fighter even without these. To see him so cowed was... worrying. He looked at the ground, followed unresisting wherever he was pulled.

They did not walk far. There were horses waiting close by. One had been fitted with a double-saddle and seemed to have been reserved for Fenris and Danarius. The elf climbed meekly up onto the horse, Danarius seating himself behind him, arms around his slender waist.

No such equipment had been prepared for Anders, and for a moment he had visions of being dragged along behind them, but then a burly man grabbed him and shoved him towards a horse. Surely they didn't mean to let him have his own horse, with every chance of escape.

The burly man caught his expression and laughed. "Don't get any ideas, freak. I'll be sitting up there with you. Nice and cosy."

Anders balked and struggled again. He was soon caught tight in the man's arms, but began to kick out with his legs instead, spooking the horse.

Danarius sighed dramatically and guided his own, improbably docile horse over. "You are unexpected cargo," the magister said. "Unique and intriguing, but unexpected nonetheless. Do not expect special treatment or for these outbursts to be tolerated. Make no mistake: you are mine."

"No!" he cried. "I belong to no one. The Templars couldn't hold me, and neither will you!" He struggled harder, but Danarius merely rolled his eyes as though bored.

The magister stretched out a hand. "Sleep," he intoned.

And Anders knew nothing.

***

When he awoke, Anders could not tell how much time had passed, but he expected quite a while.

He was in a room, lying on a bed. And he was utterly naked.

He felt the exposure over every inch of him, but especially his breasts. Reflexively, he tried to reach down to cover them, but found his arms restrained - chained to opposite sides of the bed's head. His legs were likewise splayed, and when he tried to close them together he found that they, too, were bound.

"You have to stop resisting." Quiet words from a voice to his right. He looked to find Fenris, not meeting his gaze, dejection and submission written in every aspect of his body. "It will get worse if you don't, and you don't want to know how much worse it can get."

"Like hell!" Anders spat. "I escaped from the Circle seven times, I can get out of this."

"No, you can't," Fenris said.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You hate him. How many years have you spent running away from him, and you give up just like that?"

Fenris shrugged. He was chained, too. His stiff metal collar locked to the wall on a short chain - too short to allow him to sit - but his hands and legs were free. "I have not given up. I was unprepared, and he beat me, but I have not given up. There is a slim chance that Hawke can reach us before we get too far; if he fails, I will look for an opportunity. But that time is _not now_ mage." He looked up and met Anders' eyes earnestly. "We are shackled and collared and surrounded by his men. We are at sea. Even if we could subdue them all, we would not be able to sail to land by ourselves. For the moment, he finds you amusing. I _urge_ you to keep it that way. It is humiliating to be his pet, but it is better than the alternative."

Dread coursed through him. "At sea?" he asked.

The elf closed his eyes and nodded. Anders tugged uselessly at his chains again and set his chest to jiggling. It was an unpleasant sensation, but nothing to the realisation that the ache that had built over the hours of walking by himself on the Wounded Coast was gone.

He looked down. As always, the sight of his naked breasts was foreign and arousing in a way he had no wish to entertain right now. But they lacked the bloated firmness they had when over-full with milk. Anders shivered, overrun with a sense of violation.

"He - Fenris, while I was asleep, did he...?"

Fenris glanced up, then back down again. "He drank from you, yes."

"No!" Anders cried. Pulling uselessly again at his chains, desperately needing to cover himself. "No!"

"Keep it down," Fenris hissed.

"No!" He needed to cover himself, protect himself, he was too exposed, too-

"Please, _Anders_ ," Fenris begged. "He'll hear, he'll-"

He did hear. The door to the cabin swung open, and the magister strode in. A middle-aged man with greying hair, dressed in a sumptuous red robe that practically shook the air with enchantments.

Danarius swiftly crossed to the bed and sat down beside Anders. "I'm so glad you're awake," he ran a hand down from Anders' neck, between his breasts, and across his stomach.

"Shhh, shhhh, shh," he hushed, as Anders tried in vain to pull away from his touch. "My beautiful precious creature." The hand moved further down his body, caressing his cock. Anders strained to try to close his legs on the hand. The magister slapped his leg, playfully. "Stop that. You _are_ quite the wonder, and I won't see you permanently harmed, but don't think that means you can get away without punishment."

Anders was not unaware of his predicament. He fully believed Fenris when he said that Danarius could do terrible things to him if displeased. But the thought of just allowing himself to be used that way. Without his consent. In his sleep. Somehow it was nothing like the game he had played with Fenris. Too much like what he remembered from the Circle. He couldn't stop himself. He arched his back and bucked his hips in an attempt to dislodge Danarius's unwelcome touch.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" he cried, tears filling up his eyes.

Danarius's expression changed. Hardened. The magister squeezed down painfully on Anders' cock in a way that utterly robbed him of strength.

"You belong to me. You're not used to it, I understand that, but you will need to make the adjustment. Your body is mine to touch as I see fit." He let go, and Anders cried out in relief. "It is also mine to gift to others when it pleases me. Or when you have displeased me." He reached foreward and cupped Anders' breasts, pushing them together. "There are good men aboard this ship. They have a long sea journey ahead of them, without the presence of women. You are not a woman, but believe me when I say that you will do. And these..." he squeezed into Anders breasts, his fingers making indents in the soft flesh, making Anders scream again. "These offer a world of possibilities many men are not used to, don't they? I must say, I very much enjoyed the sample I had earlier." Anders sobbed. Danarius released his breasts, leaving them to flop to the side.

"They will need to grow fat again, if you are to feed my men adequately," the magister decided. "I will wait a couple of hours until they are nice and ripe. Fenris," he said, getting up. "I will allow you a slightly longer chain so that you may keep him well watered, and tend to his needs. There is a chamber pot beneath the bed. See that he doesn't shit the sheets."

"Yes, master," the elf said, quietly.

"Good." Danarius smiled, satisfied. "I expect him to be ready when I come for him. Remember," he said, giving Anders' left breast a playful swat. "These are for me, and those I gift them to. You are not to sample them and ruin my gift to the sailors. Is that understood?"

"Yes, master," Fenris said again.

As the magister left, Anders began sobbing again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris looks after Anders as best he can in preparation for the punishment Danarius has promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some poo related content, but not scat, just the 'dealing with bodily fluids when you're chained up' kind. Mention of rape, but no non-consensual acts in this chapter.

Lying exposed on the bed with nothing to do but wait for his breasts to grow fat with milk was agony, humiliation, and boredom.  
  
He couldn't decide if Fenris was too ashamed of himself for submitting to Danarius, or if he was trying to give Anders some privacy, but the elf seemed intent on avoiding his gaze, or looking at him at all.  
  
Anders had never dealt well with silence. Though having Fenris witness his exposure and helplessness was difficult and galling, he couldn't spend the time silently pretending the other man didn't exist. And he needed a distraction from what was coming.  
  
So he talked. He asked Fenris questions. About Danarius. About his life in Tevinter. About being a slave.  
  
Fenris's answers were brief and left little in the way of threads to be picked up. And even though his own situation was difficult to set aside, Anders was not unaware of how difficult it must be for the elf to find himself captured again. So he changed tack.  
  
Anders talked. Talked without expectation of response. Talked about his childhood before his magic had manifested. What little he remembered of the Anderfells, and then of Fereldon. He avoided the things they disagreed on. Nothing about being a mage. Certainly nothing that drew on his own worst memories of being held captive in Kinlock Hold.  
  
He talked about his time in the Wardens, occasionally drawing snorts from the reticent elf at the outlandish tales. He tried to avoid talking about Justice, whose absence was itself increasingly distressing. Eventually he had to talk about the darkspawn. Which increasingly made it difficult to not talk about the Deep Roads.  
  
He found himself steadily hemmed in by topics of conversation that could only end badly.  
  
And he felt an increasing pressure in his bowels.  
  
His voice petered out. Reality closed in.  
  
He closed his eyes. Tried to listen to the sounds of the ship, the creak of boards, the distant sounds of seagulls and the waves. Tried to ignore the growing ache in his breasts and his acute awareness of what was still a very foreign shape for the skin of his chest. Could not. Felt the roundness, the subtle movements of air on his bare, soft skin.  
  
He didn't notice the tears trickling down his face until Fenris cleared his throat.  
  
"Mage, I..." Fenris said. "I have been neglecting you. I'm sorry. Would you like some water?"  
  
Anders' mouth twisted. _It doesn't matter whether I want any water or not, does it?_ he thought. _Your master wants my breasts nice and fat, so you have to water me. Like a plant_.

But he swallowed, bit back the sarcasm, and nodded. "Yes, I suppose." Reflexively, he tried to lower his hand and wipe away his tears. His wrist caught on the chain, and he gave a shaky laugh. "Great. Of course."

Fenris said nothing as he poured water from a jug into a crystal glass, then levered Anders into a better position to drink, propping him up with a spare pillow.

It was awkward and uncomfortable and the movement caused his breasts to shift - an unwelcome reminder of their presence, of why he was here. But the water - cool and fresh - was welcome. Anders realised he couldn't remember the last time he'd drunk anything. On the road, maybe? Fenris had given him a waterskin then, hadn't he?

He drained the glass quickly and allowed Fenris to pour him another, which he took at a more leisurely pace.

When he was done, Fenris bent forward to remove the extra pillow and set him down again, but Anders said, "Wait. I-I need you to help me with something else."

Fenris met his eyes. "What do you need?" he said.

Anders looked away, heat rising in his cheeks. "The other end," he said, reluctantly. "I... I need to shit."

Fenris merely nodded. "Alright." He bent to get the chamber pot, his expression remaining impassive.

Anders tried to put his hands over his reddening face and once again was restrained. You'd think he'd remember something like that, but somehow his arms kept trying to behave like normal. "Shit!" he swore.

"Yes, mage," Fenris said. "I believe that's what we are about."

Anders glared at him, catching a ghost of a smile as Fenris returned to the bed, holding a ceramic pot in his hand. It made Anders snort in response.

"It's just poo, right?" Anders said, nervously. "Nothing you haven't seen before. I'm sure even you have to shit sometimes."

"That's right," Fenris said, evenly.

But when the elf laid the pot between his legs and slipped a hand under his arse, Anders stiffened.

"Ahhh, no. Nope. No. I can't do this," he said.

Fenris withdrew his hand. "You can," he said. "It can't stay in there forever."

"Oh, I don't know," Anders said, hearing the slight hysteria in his voice. "Impacted gut - there have to be worse ways to go. I think."

"That's not going to happen, mage," Fenris said, quietly. He sighed, folding his hands in his lap, but looking at Anders earnestly. "You need to do this. It'll be worse when they take you, if you don't."

Anders sobbed and looked away. He couldn't do this. Why was he here? How could he get out? He had to get away.

He began tugging on the chains again.

"Shh, shh, shh," Fenris hushed him. Unable to embrace him, or even hold his hand, the elf laid a hand on his stomach. It should have made him flinch, but there was something soothing in it. "Anders, please, I will help you through this. It is... it is not something to be ashamed of. I have been chained like this. And I have been chained where no one came to help me or wipe me."

Tears squeezed out of Anders eyes. "So have I," Anders admitted in a hissed whisper.

"What?" Fenris was momentarily startled out of his reassurance.

Anders bit his lip. He'd been so determined not to talk about any of that. "Nothing," he gasped. "Nevermind. Forget about it. Forget the chamber pot. They can shove into my shit and get it all over them."

"Anders, no," Fenris was trying to calm him again. "You know it doesn't work like that. It - it will make it worse for you. Please, let me help you and clean you and-"

"And what?" Anders said, his eyes still squeezed shit. "Will it make me a bit less raped?" He gasped again and let the breath out as a sob.

"Anders." Calloused fingers settled gently on the sides of his face. "Anders, look at me."

Ander gave the smallest of shakes of the head. "I can't."

"You can," the elf's deep voice rumbled, firm, but kind. "There are some things we can't change right now. They will happen anyway. The best we can do is set them aside," he said. "But there are also some things we can do. To make you more comfortable. To make it hurt less. Shitting is part of it. So is the water." There was a slight pause. "I can also help prepare you, if you'd like."

Anders frowned and opened his eyes. "You... what?"

"Prepare you," the elf said, his green eyes meeting Anders' impassively. "So you don't tear. But only if that's what you want. I will not... touch you, down there, without your permission. Not unless he makes me."  Hanging unsaid: _he probably will make me. But not today._

It was actually a very kind offer. But strange. And he had a visceral urge to shove Fenris away - as though he had asked to bring the violation of Anders' body forward.

But he had already been violated. And refusing to let Fenris prepare him would not stop the violation that would happen later.

Just make it hurt more.

He sighed deeply. "Alright," he said, at last. "Help me... help me shit, and then prepare me."

Fenris nodded.

He helped Anders to a more upright position. The chains didn't allow for much, but it helped a bit. He helped lift Anders' arse over the bowl, and he sat with him, looking the other way as he shat out what he could. Then Fenris slipped a piece of cloth under his arse and removed the chamber pot.

When he returned to the bed he had a bowl of water and a flannel in hand. His gentle attentions to Anders' arsehole were surprisingly soothing.

Finally he set these aside and took a small bottle of oil from the dressing table.

"Do you still want me to do this?" Fenris asked.

Anders nodded. "Yes. Please. Thank you." It was all he could force himself to say.

He leant back as Fenris poured oil on his fingers, closing his eyes, trying and failing to imagine he was somewhere else.

The first touch of an oiled finger at his hole made him jump.

The finger pulled back.

"I'm OK," Anders said. "Sorry, I just... Sorry. Don't stop. Please."

The finger returned. Smeared oil around his hole. teased the puckered flesh of his entrance.

He knew he was tight and tried to relax himself.

Perhaps sensing the shift, the finger pressed gently at his entrance. Anders made a small noise, but forced himself to resist the urge to clench.

The finger pressed in, past the first knuckle. "Tell me to stop, and I will," Fenris's deep, comforting voice.

"No, keep going."

The finger began to slide, slowly, carefully, back and forth.

"Do you want me to try to make this feel good for you?" Fenris asked. "I know the spot that will help, but I'll avoid it if you'd prefer."

"Ah," Anders breathed. "I don't know. Not yet, anyway."

His eyes were clamped closed, so he couldn't see Fenris nod, but he felt the elf's assent as the finger began pressing in and out again.

 _Relax, relax, relax,_ he told himself. _It's just Fenris. You wanted this a day ago._ And he had. He tried to pull back those feelings. The excitement. The surprised joy that maybe something had changed between them - something he'd wanted to continue regardless of what Marethari was going to say.

He focused on the finger and the little ring of slick friction. It wasn't so bad, in isolation.

"I'm going to add a second finger now," Fenris said.

"Yes," Anders responded. "OK."

The second finger added a stretch, but there was starting to be something pleasant about it now.

Starting. One part of him was beginning to enjoy this. Relax into this. Another part was still tense and silently screaming that any moment he might be dragged away from these considerate hands and something hard and unrelenting would take their place, again and again and at the same time, his chest-

"Stop!" Anders said.

The fingers immediately withdrew.

"Did I hurt you?"

Anders shook his head. "No. No. It's not that. I - I just started thinking about what's coming. And I shouldn't have done that and it just..."

A pause. "Would you like some more water?"

Anders sighed. He knew if he said yes it would be over. He wouldn't be able to go back to this. But in truth, even if it meant he wasn't fully stretched, he wasn't sure that he could.

"Yes," he said at last, opening his eyes. "Yes. I'll need to pee afterwards, I think, but... I don't think I can do anymore."

Fenris nodded and moved away from the bed once more.

When he returned, he helped Anders sit up and held him as he drank.

It wasn't a full preparation, but then, nothing could be. And in truth, simply being held and cared for, it did help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because a few people asked and I don't want you to worry: things will eventually get better. But there's gonna be a lot of hurt and kinky, kinky pain before the happy ending.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders faces his punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one is pretty brutal. Warning for rape and gang rape and disassociation. Also some transphobic comments.

Anders lay arched over a crate below decks. He was not to be a distraction to the crew when they were working, but they had been instructed that anyone on a break could make use of him to relax.

And they had been encouraged to drink from him, too.

His hands and feet were bound to the bottom of the crate, his legs splayed. An uncomfortable position for him, but one that offered easy access to the crew.

A ring gag had been fitted to ensure his mouth stayed open, and that he would be unable to hurt anyone who used him there.

And Danarius had done something to his throat and stomach. "Can't have you being sick over all these good, hard-working men, now can we?" Anders didn't know the spell - some kind of blood magic, though Danarius had only cut his thumb to achieve it - but he could guess at it. Something to stop him gagging. Perhaps something to prevent seasickness, too.

At first men simply moved past him with curiosity, and a little revulsion.

"Maker, that's weird," said one. "I mean, I've always been partial to a little of both, but not... both together like that."

Another stepped up to him and touched is right breast. "Feels like the real thing," he said.

Anders' skin prickled and, with a shudder, he felt his nipples stiffen.

They ached to be touched, now. As much as he wished he could push away that prodding hand, the discomfort of his chest begged for release - wished the prod would become a _squeeze_ , a _suck_ -

No. _No._ He didn't want to be used like that - like a barrell these sailors could tap to sate their thirst.

"I know they're the real thing, Cherro," the first man said. "But what I'm saying is they shouldn't be on a man, should they?"

"I don't know," said the second - presumably Cherro. The prodding changed to a cupping, and a second hand joined in on his other breast, pushing them together. "Works for me. Look how _plump_ they are!"

Cherro squeezed, causing a delicious ache. Anders couldn't stop himself from moaning and shifting against his bonds. He felt a warm, wet dribble run down each of his breasts. " _Fuck me_ ," said a third voice. "Will you look at that?"

A warm wet tongue licked up one of his breasts. A cry of disgust went up amongst Cherro's companions. He couldn't see any of their faces as they looked at him, manhandled him.

"Oh!" cried the first man. "You're not seriously going to drink that?" he said.

"Why not?" Cherro asked. A warm finger pressed up along where the other trail of milk had fallen. Then the wet sound of a finger being sucked. "Tastes good. You heard what the man said. He's gonna be a delicacy in Tevinter. Likes of us won't have a chance like this again." A shifting of clothes and a jangling of brass. The man was undoing his buckle.

"Don't seem right," the third man said. "I never held with fucking slaves. I like it when the other person wants you back."

Cherro snorted. "Then piss off and stop staring. I'm not picky. Even if he weren't special like this, we've got weeks before we're even in port again. Not all of us have a Seaman Stains waiting for us in our bunks."

" _Sterrin_ ," the third man said. "His name is _Sterrin_."

"Whatever. Get lost," Cherro said. And as angry footsteps led away, a hot wet mouth closed on his breast.

The sensation was a mess of relief and disgust. So different from when his friends had put their mouths on him. The same suction. The same sense of something flowing out of him and into something else. But now the overwhelming sense of rightness that had come from sustaining someone else warred with a feeling of wrongness and perversion. Violation. Invasion.

But - _oh Maker_ \- that rushing feeling of milk being drawn from him was still, _so good_. He squirmed in spite of himself. Felt his cock twitch.

A hand was laid on his thigh, close to his hip. He jumped, emitting a squeak. There was no muffling his responses now, not with his mouth pinned open like this.

"Hey!" said Cherro. "I'm not done yet - wait your turn!"

"Seems to me you're occupied up the other end," said the first man. "You want to play with a man's tits, go ahead. I got a more pressing need. You can still have ago at his mouth if you get bored of suckling like a baby."

Cherro grunted, but didn't seem inclined to defend his claim. He returned to sucking on Anders' nipple, his hands getting more adventurous now. Rubbing over both breasts. He paused for a moment whilst a jingle at Anders' other end let him know that another belt had been undone. Then he felt a face pressed deep into his cleavage, both breasts pushed up against it, a scratchy beard rubbing the sensitive flesh. Cherro rubbed his face back and forth between them, laughing.

"Oh, you don't know what you're missing!" he said.

"Oh, I'm doing well enough," the first man said, pulling at Anders' hips to get him in a better position, straining his bound legs.

Then something hot and hard pressed into his hole. And Anders was glad he had allowed Fenris to prepare him as much as he had. This man clearly had no thought or patience for any such thing.

Anders gasped and felt the tears running down across his temples. The man pressed all the way in, his prick a stiff and uncomfortable rod.

He groaned. "Ohhh, he's so tight, but all slicked up for me. This is amazing."

Cherro grunted. The warm and rough presence left his breasts, and legs came into his field of vision.

Calloused hands lifted his head up, and he saw balls, wrinkled and hairy. "Alright," Cherro said. "Let's see what you can do."

A cock shoved in his mouth - thick and sweaty and smelling like it hadn't been washed for weeks. Anders wanted to choke, but the shaft slipped in smoothly - not just across his tongue, but down the column of his throat.

Cherro groaned. "Sweet Andraste - no whore's ever taken me like that. That _is_ good." Hands clasped down on his breasts. kneaded taut flesh that had barely been drained at all.

Anders' pained nose elicited an appreciative moan from Cherro. Probably, the vibrations of his pain only enhanced it.

Both men began to thrust.

"Suck me, slave," Cherro said, and Anders bucked. Not much - his bindings didn't allow for much, but enough to jar the man whose flesh was thrusting down his throat. To be so casually commanded - called 'slave' - his current position didn't exactly allow him to forget, but still it came as a shock.

A hand slapped down hard on his chest, and Anders gave a muffled cry. "I said, _suck_ ," Cherro ordered again. Vicious fingers clamped down hard on a nipple - tugged at it painfully, shook his breast roughly by its tip.

It was too much - too painful. Anders caved and began sucking in earnest - felt shameful gratitude as his nipple was released.

"Good boy," Cherro said, patting him like a dog as he fucked his throat.

It would have been easy to believe that things could not get worse than this - Cherro and his friend fucking him from both ends, his hole tight and sore, his nipple shooting pains from the unwelcome squeeze. But it wasn't the worst, merely the first.

For the most part, they came in separately; although often someone would stop to feed from him as another man was fucking his arse or face.

Some only drank from him.

Some remarked on how weird and unnatural his breasts were, but did not consider themselves above rape.

The worst came late into the night. Anders did not know how many hours he had lain, stretched over that crate. Had lost track of how many had taken and used him. Had endured as his limbs went dead in turn from the awkward position, then returned to life with excruciating pins and needles he could do nothing about.

The men were drunk - singing and yelling. Anders tried not to listen to their words. Listening to what they said, he found, made it too real, too human. Rooted him in the here and now. Strange loud noises divorced from sense could be shelved along with rough pulling and thrusting and sucking as merely a litany of sensations he had to endure.

But these ones - these ones he could not entirely hide from. Could not avoid in the depths of their perversion.

There were five of them.

One took his head - thankfully neither too long, nor too broad. If there was anything about this for which one could be thankful.

One took his arse. Not so small. He was stretched uncomfortably wide, though repeated use had loosened him well, and the man did not seem to find his tightness troublesome.

Two men bent in to either side of his chest. They began drinking in tandem, their rhythms frustratingly out of step.

The fifth... the fifth he had not expected. No one yet had treated his dick with more than passing curiosity. It had risen and fallen almost randomly - stimulated against his will, then wilting, then rising again. So then to find another man climbing onto his chest simply sent him into a panic. He didn't know what was happening - feared the sudden weight.

But then it lifted again, and a slick warmth enveloped his cock.

The men about him paused to laugh and cheer - clapping themselves on the back, two cocks shoved deep inside him and his own cock enveloped by someone else.

"Right - get to it, lads!" the man at his head cried, and the most unholy mass of rocking bodies pressed against him.

He couldn't even make sense of his own sensations. He seemed split, divided between them:

The huge cock pressing deep into his anus, rubbing him raw, filling him up.

The smaller cock hot in his mouth, slipping in and out, his tongue mechanically moving and licking and sucking now.

The alternating pressure on his breasts. Sucking, sucking, sucking. The utility of it. Being drained. Being food for someone else. Or for as many as wanted to consume him.

And the last. Sliding up and down. Drawing unbidden jolts of pleasure, combining with the hard press of the thick cock inside him against his sensitive gland.

He lost himself in their tugs and pulls. In how thoroughly they were using him. Every orifice of him. Every sacred space. Making him theirs. Their toy. Something that was allowing them all to get off together.

The pull and ache and gathering pressure on his cock came on inexorably, and his own orgasm - bucking up into that hot hole, made them all cheer.

The one on top of him came soon after - slipped off him laughing and panting.

And then the ones in his mouth and arse, rocking together in an explosion of come that made it feel almost as though they were coming at each other, instead of into him. As though he were only a sleeve through which they might shoot hot white fluid at one another.

And finally the two on his nipples released him. They had sucked him dry before the others had climaxed, but they'd continued to suckle and rub and play.

The men laughed, congratulated each other, then left. Sparing nothing more than a passing pat for the man they had filled and pulled on from every angle.

No one touched him after that. He imagined he looked a state.

When Danarius finally came to release him, he couldn't walk. A servant - or possibly another slave - carried him.

Every part of him ached. Random muscles twitched. He was covered in drying fluids and sweat.

The cool night air, when it hit, made him gasp and clutch weakly at the man who carried him, but it was only brief.

Then he was back in the warm. Laid on a soft bed. A downy comforter pulled up around him.

He did not resist when his hands were pulled up above him and his legs stretched to the end of the bed.

At least he was not splayed this time. He was allowed to lay on his side and not on his sore, throbbing arse.

A warm body pulled up against him. He would have flinched, but absolutely no energy seemed to be left with him to move.

A hand reached over and gently squeezed a breast.

"There, my pet," a voice soothed. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danarius commands Fenris to clean Anders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A switch of POV as Anders is pretty out of it at the start of this chapter, and Fenris has some pretty big feels going on right now, too.
> 
> I was aiming for a bit of comfort after the last chapter, and Fenris is taking care of Anders as best he can, but it's still quite emotionally intense. Warning for non-consenual touching as neither of them really want to be doing this, some disassociation, too.

Fenris had not been allowed a pallet. He couldn't even lie down. His chain had been shortened again after Anders had been taken away for his 'punishment'. He slept fitfully, back pressed against the wall, and awoke to stiffness.

Stiffness, and the sight of Anders in Danarius's bed, filthy with the come and sweat and fluids of a dozen men, but still permitted to sleep with their master.

 _No. No._ How easily the old mindset returned. He felt the shame and rejection of being excluded from Danarius's bed. A traitorous part of his mind actually felt jealous. Was Anders to be the favoured slave now? Surely not.

No. Danarius never would have given Fenris to common sailors to fuck. Even now, after his escape, after trying to kill Danarius himself, his punishment was to... what? Sleep poorly and watch whatever he did to the mage?

Watch as Danarius took another slave to his bed while Fenris was chained to the wall and helpless - not to be trusted.

 _Damn_ him - Danarius still knew how to play him, how to work his claws into Fenris's soul. It should not have worked. He grunted. He would not allow it to work.

He would focus on Anders. The mage knew nothing of slavery. Did not know how to behave and had suffered the consequences. It was Fenris's fault Anders was in this situation. His fault Danarius had come for him and seen the mage's predicament. He had to find a way to protect him - to stop Anders' willfulness from destroying him completely.

On the bed, Anders twitched, and Danarius's hand squeezed down on the breast it was cupping. Anders moaned, and for a moment the ghost of a smile graced his sleepy face. Then he opened his eyes, meeting Fenris's own, and his face fell. He stiffened, and Danarius chuckled behind him.

"Good morning, my pet," the magister said, fingers running circles around Anders' nipple.

Anders tried to jerk away, but was restrained by his chains. Danarius sat up and turned Anders over, so he lay on his back.

"So _plump_ in the mornings, aren't you?" Danarius said, running his hands over Anders' swollen breasts. "I think I shall enjoy starting the day with your breasts in my mouth. But not today." He withdrew his hands and got up from the bed. "Today I breakfast with the Captain whilst Fenris cleans you up." The magister walked over to him. "Stand, Fenris."

He complied. Danarius was so close now. Even without the powers the markings granted him, he could kill Danarius here and now. Could throttle him. Break his neck. Knock him out and then beat him to death. The magister was powerful, but not fast enough to stop him in such close proximity.

But he wouldn't. Not while they were at sea. Not surrounded by Danarius's men and chained to a wall. And the magister knew that.

Fenris was startled when Danarius bent in to kiss him, but did not resist. The mannerisms of submission so deeply ingrained that he bent naturally into it. Parted his lips, gently sought out the other man's tongue - bent his head upwards as his master ran his fingers through his hair. Had to fight, fight so hard to quash the sense of relief - of forgiveness that rose into that gesture.

The Danarius released him. "Good boy." he said. Then he unhooked the chain and refastened it at a more generous length. "I will send the cabin boy in with water. Clean him thoroughly, inside and out. When I comes back I expect to find him in a suitable condition for me to use."

"Yes, master," Fenris said, the words rising up from buried depths.

Danarius patted his cheek and moved away, crossing to his wardrobe. He dressed with fastidious precision, then left.

Fenris looked back at Anders. The mage had closed his eyes, but the tension in his face said he had not returned to sleep.

"Mage," Fenris said.

Anders gave a small shake of the head, not opening his eyes. "No," he whispered. "Please."

Fenris lapsed again into silence. If Anders didn't want to talk he wouldn't press it. The man would know little enough peace.

It was not long until the cabin boy entered. His eyes widened when he saw Anders' bare chest, but apart from that he didn't respond. Dumped the bucket, a rag, and a bar of soap and left. A smart boy to run from the magister's cabin.

Fenris moved quietly forward and sat beside the bucket. He soaked the rag and worked the soap up into a lather.

"Mage," he said again, quietly. "Anders. May I wash you? I promise that's all I'll do."

Anders shuddered, then cleared his throat. "Why even bother asking? You're going to do it anyway. He told you to."

A fair question. Why had he bothered? It had felt like he ought. "I suppose... because it should be your choice, even if it isn't. Because I didn't want to touch you unannounced. Because we have a little time. I can wait a bit longer, if you prefer."

Anders snorted, his eyes still closed. "You don't know that. You don't know how long he'll be away. What he'll do if you're not done when he gets back."

Not an unreasonable expectation, but Fenris shook his head. "No," he said. "He will want you to be grateful, now. He's made his point. You're his. You know what he can do to you if you disobey. But the lesson will lose its bite if you never feel any reprieve. He knows if he comes back too soon and has to punish you again over nothing you'll start to lose hope. He wants you to adjust to your condition. He wants you to learn to be willing."

Anders said nothing, but tears leaked out from underneath his closed eyes.

"Forget him, for now," Fenris said. "We can't control what he will and won't do. Would _you_ like to be clean?"

Anders opened his mouth, but his breath caught on his words. He closed it. Swallowed. Tried again. "Yes," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I don't want you to touch me."

Fenris nodded. He wished the mage might have washed himself, but bound as he was, that was impossible. "I could start away from your chest. Your face and arms. I could warn you each time before I move on to somewhere else."

Anders made a strangled noise, but then nodded. "Alright."

"Alright," Fenris said back to him. "I'll start with your face."

He wet the cloth again and began at Anders' brow, then moving down across his closed eyes. His cheeks, his ears. Gently around his mouth. Anders made quiet little noises, but didn't tell him to stop.

"I'm going to do your hands, now," he said. "And then I'll move down your arms. I'll stop when I get to your shoulders, OK?"

"OK," Anders breathed.

He worked carefully and thoroughly. In part because he genuinely wanted to help Anders feel clean, but also to give him time to adjust to the feeling of being touched.

"I'm going to do your legs, now," he said, rinsing out the rag. "I'll start at your feet and go no higher than mid-thigh, OK?"

"OK," Anders whispered.

He set to work again. Anders, it seemed, had ticklish feet. He squirmed under Fenris's touch, but didn't tell him to stop.

When he got to mid-thigh on the second leg he stopped.

"I'm going to turn you over now, so I can do your back, shoulders and neck," he said.

"OK," Anders responded, but when Fenris put his hands on the mage's waste to turn him, the mage cried out and bucked beneath him. "No, no, no," he said.

"I'm sorry," Fenris instantly let go. "That - I - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you there without warning."

Anders was breathing hard through his nose, his eyes and mouth screwed shut.

"We'll stop for a minute."

More tears slipped from Anders' eyelids and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"Sorry," he eventually breathed. "I - I'll try to do it myself. I - I think that would be best."

Fenris longed to tell him not to. To say they could stop forever. To offer to draw him a bath and leave him alone to clean himself.

But he could not.

He could only watch as Anders awkwardly shifted first onto his back, then lurched again onto his other side.

The mage's back revealed a network of old scars. Mostly pale white lines - faded, but not quite gone. A few raised and red, but also old. Healed poorly, but long ago. And Fenris recalled the mage saying that he knew what it was to be chained and left to sit in your own shit.

Not the time or place to think of such things. "Mage," he said. "Are any of these scars sensitive to touch?"

A shake of the head. "No," he said quietly. "Some were, but... there's not much you can heal with old scars, but damaged nerves... I fixed that."

That surprised him. Fenris had been told that once a scar had been formed it could not be healed. His mind strayed to the raw thrumming of the lyrium embedded in his skin and he wondered...

No. That was something to think of later. Not now.

"OK, I'll start on your back now."

The back didn't take long. It had seen little attention the night before.

"Would you like me to wash your hair?" Fenris asked, as he finished with the mage's neck.

"Yes," Anders said, and Fenris could hear in his voice a surprising warmth and gratitude. "Please."

It wasn't easy to wash Anders' hair without soaking the bed, but Fenris did his best. He wet the hair first with the damp cloth, combed it through with his fingers. Felt the stiffness that could only be the spend of other men.

On his knees, Fenris could see as Anders spilt more tears, at first, but slowly, he calmed. Perhaps the massage of fingers across his scalp helped.

The soap was harder to manage, and Fenris was conscious that a sailor's rough soap would be harsher than anything he would want on his own hair, but it was better than nothing. He combed the hair through again as best he could afterwards.

Anders seemed a little better after it was done.

Fenris hated to spoil that, but... "Mage, I - I think I should clean your buttocks next."

Anders surprised him by laughing. "My buttocks?" he snorted. "I suppose you better had. But..." the amusement left his voice, "not - not... inside. Please? Not yet."

"No," Fenris promised. "I'll do that last."

"Shit!" Anders hissed. "I mean - I know... it's _shit_ , but... shit." His laugh was a little hysterical now. "I - I do want to be clean, I just... I - I-"

"I won't do it yet," Fenris said. "Don't think about it for now."

"OK," Anders breathed. "OK."

"I'm going to touch you now," Fenris warned him.

"OK."

The mage flinched when the cloth touched his flesh, but he didn't cry out this time - endured as Fenris wiped over the round globes of his cheeks and down along the tops of his thighs.

When he was done, he sat back. "I need to do your chest now," he said quietly.

Anders made a low noise, and Fenris could hear him taking slow, steady breaths. He was just starting to wonder if he should speak again when the mage's body jerked and he was laid once again on his back.

Anders met his eyes for the first time since he had begun this wretched task. "Have at," he said, then looked up to the ceiling.

Fenris wet and soaped the rag again, and finally brought himself to look at Anders' breasts.

They were swollen, round and pert. Slender trails of milk had dribbled down from his nipples, perhaps prompted by the movement.

"I'm sorry," Fenris said.

"Yes, fine, get on with it," Anders said, his eyes fixed on some spot on the ceiling.

He wiped around them first, trying fruitlessly to delay the inevitable. Then, spreading the rag out over his palm, he moved up and around in the swirling motion.

Anders gasped and twitched at his touch. Fenris tried his best to ignore the reaction. To focus on his task. This was just another action he had been commanded to perform.

Heat rose in his cheeks as the attention made Anders nipples stiffen, and the mage made an involuntary moan.

Anders surprised him by speaking as Fenris moved on to his other breast. "Do you think he'll feed from me when he gets back?"

"I don't know," Fenris said, trying to focus on his task.

"It's just, I'm very full," the mage went on. "But I don't want him to touch me. It's quite a conundrum!"

The mage was a nervous talker. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised the man would talk about this.

"Maybe if you-"

"No." Fenris cut him off.

"You don't know what I was going to say."

"I can't help you with that, mage," Fenris said. "Even if I wanted to, your milk belongs to him. He'd punish us both."

"Right," said Anders, then lapsed into silence again.

When he'd finished with Anders breasts, there was little left to do. A quick swipe over the man's stomach and up under his armpits. Finally, there was only his cock and arsehole left.

"Can we not and say we did?" Anders asked, foolishly, as Fenris hesitated.

"He'll know."

"I know, but..." he could hear Anders' nerves in his voice again.

"I'll be as gentle as I can," Fenris said.

"Right." Tears in his eyes again.

Fenris lifted his hand and gently ran his fingers through the mage's hair. "It's just an action we both have to go through. Just something that's going to happen. In a few minutes it will be over. You just have to get from this time to that."

"Right," the mage repeated.

It wasn't going to get any better from words or waiting.

"I'm going to touch your cock now, OK?"

"Right."

He lifted the mage's flaccid member gingerly and brought the cloth up to wash his shaft. He wasn't surprised when he felt the flesh begin to stiffened, but Anders' sob in response cut him. "I'll be quick," he said, his ears burning with shame.

"Right," Anders said, his voice high and tight.

He worked as quickly as he could, but forced himself to be thorough. He had no idea how many men had touched Anders there the night before. It really was in the mage's interest to be cleaned.

"Fenris, stop." The mage's pained voice halted him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't. I-"

"Shh, shh," Fenris hushed him, pulling his hands away. "You do _not_ need to apologise."

"I just - I just - I don't think I can."

"I'm done there," Fenris reassured him. "I won't touch you there again."

"Please don't touch me inside," Anders begged.

Fenris's stomach dropped. He would have to. He knew he would have to. Was that really something he could do, with the mage begging him not to like that?

Fenris didn't know. What would happen if he didn't? Was there any way he could keep the punishment focused on himself - make sure Anders wasn't hurt anymore?

He didn't know. Couldn't think.

He didn't know how long he sat there, staring blankly, unable to make his mind or body move forward.

It was Anders who broke him out of it.

"Alright," he said. The word took a moment to process. "I know you have to. I shouldn't have... anyway. Just be quick, OK?"

Fenris met his eyes. Read fear and  resignation there. "I-"

There was nothing. He didn't know what followed that thought.

"It's OK," Anders said, his eyes filled with tears.

"It's not," Fenris said, quietly.

Anders closed his eyes and the tears spilled.

"No, alright, it's not," he said. "So just get on and do it anyway."

Numbly, Fenris got up and nudged Anders' legs apart.

Gently, he lifted the man's cock and balls up, brought the cloth beneath them, and began to clean.

By the time he pressed into Anders' arsehole with the soap-smeared cloth, he felt very far away. He heard Anders' gasp from a distance.

Afterwards, he dumped the cloth beside the bucket, took the soap, and began to wash himself.

"Fenris."

Heard from a distance, a breath on the breeze.

"Fenris, you can stop."

No, he wasn't clean yet.

"Fenris." A little firmer, louder.

He looked up into Anders' amber eyes.

"You were right. We got through it. Please stop."

He looked down. He was covered in suds up to the elbow and his skin was red with scratches. He stared at his arms as the world came back into focus.

"Oh," he said, then began to wash the suds away. "I..." he cleared his throat. "I think I just..." He sighed and his shoulders slumped. "I thought I was free. I thought I could control what I did and did not do." He met Anders eyes again. "I didn't want to do that to you. I'm sorry."

"I know," Anders said, tiredness in his eyes. "I don't blame you."

Fenris shifted himself to lean against the cabin wall next to the bed. He found himself wishing he could hold Anders' hand.

"I will kill him," he said at last. It was the only positive thing he could think to say.

"Good," Anders said.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danarius rewards Fenris for good behaviour and makes use of his new toy.

The mage who entered the cabin was not a healer. Most blood mages weren't, it being impossible to heal using the energy stolen from blood. But she had some little skill. Enough to heal the tears in Anders' rectum so that he might be used again, safely.

After everything he had experienced, being reliant on someone else to heal him shouldn't have been so humiliating. But it was. The absent deadness he felt when he reached for his power made him feel more helpless than the chains that bound him to the bed.

And a blood mage...

"I'm sorry," she said as she approached the bed. She was tall and gaunt, her skin olive and her dark hair bound in a plait behind her head. "I'm here to help you, and I will, as much as I can, but he has asked that I insert this first."

She showed him a glass plug. No mistaking what it was. He supposed he should be grateful it wasn't thicker, but perhaps Danarius didn't want him too loose.

"It will make things easier for you, in the long run," she said.

He glared at her. " _Thank_ you. So much."

She nodded, stood, and moved to the bottom of the bed. "If you could part your legs, please."

Why was she asking? Wasn't he a thing to be commanded, now? Did it make her feel better to ask?

"I'd rather not," he said, knowing it would accomplish nothing.

She sighed. "Please. I do not wish to force you. I am here to make you whole again - I don't want to damage your further."

"Whole?" She could not be serious. He would never be whole again, not after this.

"Please," she said again.

He stole a glance at Fenris. The elf's face was a blank slate, void of emotion, but he nodded. It would be best if Anders complied.

Sighing, Anders opened his legs as much as the chains would allow. The movement sent a flare of pain through his already throbbing anus.

She stepped forward.

"Wait," Anders said, hating the note of panic in his voice. "Can't you heal me first - please?"

She shook her head sadly. "I know it is painful now, but it will be easier on you if I heal you around the plug. Your body will more naturally adjust to being held open. You should still be able to close, when the plug is removed - it is not very big - but penetration will be much easier."

Anders closed his eyes. He would be easier for Danarius to fuck without preparation. And he was expected to be grateful for this.

She did not warn him before touching him, and he jumped at her touch.

"Shhhh," she murmured, and he recognised the warm slickness of oil as she applied it to his abused hole.

As her finger slipped easily into him, he whimpered, then cried out as she touched a particularly sore patch that must be a tear.

"Shhh, shhh, you're doing very well," she said. "It will be over soon."

He wanted to kick her in the face for violating him and then talking to him like a pet or a child, but he could not. Could only lie there and whimper as her oiled fingers reached inside him, ran over his abused flesh.

Finally, she withdrew, and he felt the cool pressure of the solid glass plug at his hole.

"You're still  quite loose, so this should slip in nice and easy," she said.

 _Great_ , he thought, but didn't have time for anything else. The long probe slid straight in, filling him up, hard and cold inside him. Within moments it had slotted into place, his ring closing around the neck before the flared base.

He gasped at the sensation, cursed his traitor cock that twitched with arousal at the firm presence, even as his tortured rectum throbbed around the intruder.

"Shh, shh, shh," she shushed him again. "It will only hurt a moment longer."

Then he felt the comforting wash of healing magic. The throbbing, stabbing pains faded, and then stilled. He felt himself tighten slightly around the base of the plug. And then the magic was gone.

He was no longer in pain. The skin and muscles of his entrance had adjusted to a new normal around the glass intrusion.

She nodded with satisfaction.

"Master Danarius is taking a turn on the deck at the moment, but he will join you presently," she said, and then left.

***

When Danarius came in, the first thing he did was to reach between Anders' legs and tap the base of the plug. He felt the dull tap deep within him.

Anders flinched, but forced himself not to jerk his legs closed.

"Good boy," Danarius said. "But you will need to do something about this jumping every time I touch you. It will become bothersome." His eyes roamed Anders body, stopping at his chest. A smile quirked his lips and he came to sit next to Anders on the bed. A hand traced the outline of what was now very sore, very tight flesh.

"You've done well," Danarius said, looking to Fenris. "He looks good as new."

"Thank you, master," Fenris said, the tone of his deep voice carefully neutral.

"You understand, of course, that after all you have done - all the bother you have caused me - you deserve only punishment," Danarius said. "No action you could perform would ever be worthy of reward."

Fenris hung his head. "I understand, master," he said.

"But I am benevolent," Danarius continued. "I wish to have joy of you again. I wish to fold you back into my arms and know I am safe, because of your love for me. You do love me, don't you Fenris?"

Fenris looked up, and Anders, who was used to the elf's cool fury and simmering ire, could not believe its stillness, almost serenity. "Of course, master," he said. "I only hope you can forgive me."

Danarius shrugged. "Well, forgiveness is a long way off. But if you can learn to serve me faithfully again, you shall be rewarded, even though you do not deserve it. This," he ran a hand around one of Anders' full, tight breasts, "was well done. I shall allow you to feed from my new toy as a reward."

Fenris's eyes widened very slightly, but he did not look to Anders. "Thank you, master," Fenris said, feeling in his voice. Although what the feeling might be was difficult to decipher.

Danarius stood and moved to the other side of the bed, laying himself down beside Anders.

"Come, my Little Wolf," he said. "Let us drink together."

The touch of Danarius's lips on his nipple made Anders squirm. The magister slapped him, hard, on his stomach.

" _Be still_ ," he commanded. "I don't want to have to keep telling you this."

Anders' breathing was coming fast, but he forced himself to stillness. When Danarius's lips touched his flesh again he let out a gasp, but didn't move.

When the sucking began, the sweet release of pleasure forced a moan from him. Danarius didn't seem to mind, though.

Fenris knelt down on the other side of him. With Danarius distracted, sucking deep on Anders' nipple, their eyes met. The sympathy he could now read in the elf's face was a comfort so surprising that tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Fenris laid one hand at the side of his face and stroked his hair.

Then he turned and bent his head to Anders' breast.

The touch of his lips was familiar, and as Fenris's mouth opened and his warm tongue lathed over Anders' nipple, he tried to focus on these gentle attentions, to ignore the rough, tug-tug-tug on the right-hand side of his chest. When Fenris sucked and his milk let down, he moaned with honest release.

He had been so tight and so full - for hours now. Sore and hot and painful. Fenris feeding from him again felt right and wonderful, just as Danarius's drag upon his breast was harsh, unwanted, defiling.

After a while, Danarius sat back, gasping and wiping a dribble of milk from the corner of his mouth. He sighed with satisfaction, gazing lovingly at Fenris, who still drank from him.

"My beautiful pets," the magister said. "Yes, I think I shall enjoy you both very well. Fenris."

The elf immediately sat up, swallowing his last mouthful of milk, leaving Anders' nipple feeling cold and wet.

"Fill your mouth with his milk, then crawl over to me."

"Yes, master," Fenris said, then lowered his head again.

The suction of Fenris's mouth on his sensitive flesh was long this time - not the gentle tugging of before. And when he pulled free, his cheeks were distended. He crawled over Anders, careful in the placement of his hands and legs, but still making Anders feel like a thing - a prop to be used, then clambered over when in the way.

The elf knelt before the magister, and Danarius lowered his lips to cover Fenris's. When Fenris's lips parted, some escaped, but more was passed into Danarius's mouth.

Anders had expected the magister merely to drink his milk from Fenris's mouth, but instead he pressed forward into a kiss.

They were kissing as his milk was passed between them. It was messy, and more milk escaped, ran down their chins, was smeared across their faces.

Danarius broke the kiss, grinning and laughing. "That was wonderful! You have pleased me greatly. Go prepare yourself whilst I enjoy my new toy some more."

Fenris's chain would let him go no further, so he was forced to crawl back across Anders to get out of the way and off the bed.

The magister bent between Anders' legs, his fingers finding the lip of the plug and pulling it free.

A rush of emptiness.

The ring of his arsehole tried to close - the mage from earlier was right, he could. But the moment he relaxed it twitched back open again. Danarius smiled and ran an appreciative finger around its edge. " _Perfect_ , " he breathed.

He turned to face Anders. "Now, I'm going to release your legs. Know that I can paralyze you in a moment or put you to sleep and still use you, so if you fight me you will not deter me, but afterwards you will be punished again. So. Will you be a good boy?"

He desperately wanted to say no, or to lie, and kick Danarius in the face the moment he was released, but the thought of being punished again filled him with a horror that froze him as well as any paralysis spell.

"Milk toy?" Danarius asked. "Will you be good?"

Anders stared at him. 'Milk toy'? Was that to be his name now?

Danarius slapped his breast, making him cry out. "Answer me - I won't ask again."

"Yes, yes - I'll be good," Anders promised, and felt something die inside him, knowing that he would - he would be good.

Danarius unlocked the chains and spread his legs wide, seated himself between them. His hot erection slid smoothly into Anders' flesh - a perfect fit.

"Good, so good," Danarius murmured, then began to rock into and out of him.

A hand reached up and squeezed his chest, a thin smear of milk bubbling out of him.

" _Kaffas_ ," the magister swore. "You are _everything_."

The rock and press of a hard rod inside him - almost fascinating in its unwelcome intrusion. This was to be his life now. His purpose. To be used.

"Fenris," The magister said, breathy with exertion and pleasure. "I have changed my mind. I will not be needing you for the moment. "Use the plug on yourself and stay ready for me."

"Yes, master," Fenris's deadpan voice somewhere to the left.

Then Danarius was bent over him, rocking into him, taking his nipple in his mouth again and sucking, the motion of his fucking making Danarius's grip on his breast rough and unsteady.

Hands came up to knead his flesh - less full than it had been, but still aching with liquid begging to be released.

Danarius sat up, gasping, pushed his breasts together to admire the cleavage. Laughed as he continued to thrust into the hole that had been made _just the right size for him._

"Yes," he grunted. "Perfect. Everything."

On the last word, the magister came, hot seed rushing into Anders.

After pulling out, Danarius collapsed on top of him, his head between Anders' breasts, his softening cock warm on his hip.

"You will be quite the object of envy in Minrathos," Danarius said, his breath washing over Anders' skin, making his nipples stiffen. "Everyone will want you, but they will need my permission to touch you."

A hand possessively squeezed his breast.

"And I will touch you whenever I want."


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danarius commands Fenris to accustom Anders to touch and Anders tries to provoke a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A leeetle bit of comfort, amidst the hurt.

Danarius did not fuck Fenris that morning.

He played with him, kissed him, petted him, but did not fuck him. Eventually he removed the butt plug that had now been inside both him and Anders. Danarius commanded him to wash it, then put it back inside his new toy.

The magister sighed and adjusted his robes. "I have work to do and you are both a distraction. And you," he bent down to squeeze one of Anders' breasts, "require further training. I do not have the patience for all this jumping and yapping. Fenris," he said, walking over to detach Fenris's chain from the wall, "You will work on this." The chain was fastened to one of the bed posts, with enough leeway that Fenris might finally be allowed to lie on the bed. "Touch him, stroke him, pet him, kiss him, fuck him. You may do anything except come in him or leave a mark upon his flesh. He is not yours to use, only to prepare, and you have not yet earned any kind of release yourself."

"Yes, master," Fenris said, his mouth dry.

"I do not expect this problem to be cured in a single day, but you will work on it until I am satisfied, or I tell you to stop."

"Yes, master." He felt sick. Anders had barely tolerated being washed.

"Good," the magister said, then left.

Fenris leant against the post he was chained to and forced himself to meet Anders' eyes.

"Are you going to tell me that it's for my own good? That I must get used to this and stop resisting?" the mage asked, hurt and fear poorly concealed by his bitter words.

"No," Fenris said.

"But you're going to do it anyway."

He was. It would be worse for both of them - much worse - if he did not.

"We do not have to... not all the things he said. But I can try to help you... find ways to tolerate his touch. Try not to think about it as his hands, his body. Think about it just as sensations... as something that is happening."

"Just something I have to get through, is that it? I heard you before, Fenris. It doesn't make it not rape." Fenris looked away from the raw emotion in Anders' eyes. "You think I've never done that before? You think this is the first time I've just had to endure as someone did what they wanted with me?" Something dark, here. Something Fenris didn't think he wanted to hear. "You still think you're the only one who knows about pain? Poor pampered mage doesn't know what it is to be hurt, to be forced, to be touched without permission? So you're going to hold my hand through it whilst I learn to _adjust_ to _submit_. You think because I can't just _lie there_ it's proof that nothing truly bad ever happens to mages. In Fereldan. In the sodding 'Free' Marches?"

He couldn't meet the man's eyes. Had he thought that? Perhaps. "You never - you never said."

"Funny, I thought you were tired of hearing me talk about what mages endure. Funny how a man can be tired of hearing something he hasn't listened to at all."

Fenris frowned, staring at his feet. "You didn't say that _you_... Isabela said you _liked_ sex, that you... you..." _Shut up, Fenris. Why are you still talking?_

"Oh, well, yes. Maker forbid a man take any pleasure from something others have tried to hurt him with. I'm not like you, so nothing awful ever happened to me, is that it?" A note of something else was in Anders' voice now. "You must be _dying_ to say 'I told you so' - right? Tevinter is _so much worse_. Perhaps you expect me to see, now, that mages are _all like him_."

Fenris could hear the tears in Anders' voice now, and he finally looked up, forced himself to meet Anders' red and weeping eyes. "No - Anders, no. I would not say such things to you now."

"But one day, right? One day you'll..." his breath caught in a sob. His arms jerked, as though he had tried to move them and forgot them were bound. " _Damn it!_ " he swore, trying to wipe his eyes with the inside of his arm.

"That's not what I meant," Fenris whispered, moving forward to crouch by the mage. "Anders, I - I don't want to say these things. Why are you trying to force this?"

"I - I don't know," the mage said in a broken voice. He sobbed again.

Fenris took the edge of the sheet in his hand and gestured to his eyes. "Let me help you," he said.

Anders closed his eyes and nodded, though the edges of his mouth twisted down in a grimace.

Careful to make sure their skin did not touch, Fenris dried the mage's face.

"You're going to have to start touching me, aren't you?" the mage said, his eyes closed.

"I could just hold you, for a while," Fenris offered.

Eyes screwed shut, the mage nodded. "OK."

Fenris walked to the bottom of the bed, so that he could climb in without clambering over the man. Anders did not flinch when Fenris touched his shoulder, but he practically thrummed with tension.

"I'm going to put my hand down over your stomach," he said. "I will not touch your breasts, OK?"

Anders nodded tightly, but said nothing.

Fenris did as he had said and nestled himself up against Anders' hard frame. There was very little fat on the man, Fenris realised, except for that which now resided on his chest.

Once in position, he tried not to move. Slowly, he felt Anders relax against him.

"He's made my arsehole a perfect fit for him, you know?" Anders surprised him by saying.

"Is it something you can fix, when you have your magic back?" Fenris asked. It was all he could think to say.

"I don't know," Anders replied. "I'm not even sure I won't shit the bed in my sleep. I - I'm closed again now, but..." Anders shuddered against him.

"We will fix it," Fenris decided. "We will find someone who can fix all of it."

Anders snorted. "I didn't know you were one for pleasant lies."

"It is not  lie, mage," he said. "We will survive this. We will escape. And if it was so easily done, it can be undone. Someone will know how."

Anders sighed, leaning back slightly into his embrace. "Thank you."


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders becomes resigned to what needs to happen, but Fenris freaks out a bit at what he's been asked to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this stuff is super skeevy. I don't want Fenris to be helping Danarius get Anders accustomed to being touched and handled, but I need for it to happen because of the kinks I want to pursue later. Sorry for putting them through this! I'm skeeving myself out a bit with this.
> 
> Apologies for some mistakes on first posting (like Anders being able to catch Fenris's hand) - I'm ill and was in a rush when I wrote it. I've added a bit to round it off.

They lay together for a while without moving. Slowly, Anders calmed.

He dearly wanted to keep resisting, to fight his way out of this, but he could not. Could not even lower his own arms to wipe his tears when he cried.

He did not want to be punished again.

A perverse part of him wanted to keep pressing Danarius. To provoke him at every opportunity no matter what was thrown at him. But every time he felt his anger boiling, his will to resist rising, he remembered being bent helpless back over that crate. People using his mouth. His arse. Drinking from him as though he were a freshly tapped keg, and not a human being. Harsh hand tweaking his nipples. Flashes of remembered pain and violation.

And he knew. Knew in the depths of his heart that he would do anything to avoid going through that again.

"Do it," he heard himself whisper to Fenris at last.

"What?" the elf's voice close to his ear.

"Touch me," he said. "Don't just hold me. Touch me. Help me get used to this. Not for him. For me."

Fenris lay silent and still behind him. The arm draped over his belly did not move.

"Fenris-"

"I don't know if I can," the elf admitted.

"Try," Anders said, his mouth dry. "Please. I don't want to be punished again."

Hot breath against his neck as Fenris sighed.

Then movement. The hand on his stomach moving in tentative circles. For a while, that was all he did.

"Fenris," Anders said. "You know that's not where-"

"I know," the elf breathed. For a moment the motions stilled, then the hand crept up onto his hip.

A sudden memory of someone grabbing him there, grinding his flesh back against the sharp angle of the crate. He inhaled sharply, and Fenris's hand left his skin.

"No," he said, "please keep going."

The hand settled gently back on his hip. Then moved down. Fingers briefly skirting the sensitive place just inside his hip bone. It sent a thrill down to his cock that made him cry out.

Fenris let go and rolled away from him entirely.

"No, please," he begged. "Don't stop." He could hear the tears in his own voice. "I need to get used to it."

"I know," Fenris's voice uncharacteristically breathy behind him. "But I can't do it. I can't. I can't."

Exhausted, Anders didn't want to move, but he needed to look at Fenris. Pulling back on his chains for leverage, he lurched his body round until he was facing the other man. The plug in his butt reminded him of its existence, stiff and hard in his body when he moved. Discomfort, also, from his arms, which ached from being long kept in the same, awkward position above his head - the one part of him no one had thought to heal. Pulling on them to move had been a wrench. His settled into the new position with a sigh.

Fenris lay, looking up at the ceiling, distress cracking through the facade of calm he had maintained through all of this.

"It's just like when you washed me," Anders said.

Fenris shook his head. "No, it's not," he replied. "And you hated that."

"I got through it. I was glad of it."

Fenris closed his eyes and shook his head again. "I have never done this," he admitted. "I... slept with other slaves. At his command. But they were all like me. Used to it. Knowing what it was. What to expect." He turned haunted eyes to meet Anders'. "I never had to break anyone," he breathed.

Anders' throat closed tight. Fighting down the well of panic at the idea of being 'broken'. "You're not breaking me," he whispered.

"Becoming pliant. Reacting only as desired. Ceasing to fight," Fenris said. "That's what it is to be broken."

Anders shook his head. That wouldn't happen to him. The Templars hadn't broken him. A spirit of Justice possessed him, even if he could not be reached right now. He would not be broken. "No. Not if I don't give up. You said. You said before. We just have to wait. For Hawke to come. For the right moment. I just need you to help me endure it. Please." A slight shake of Fenris's head. "Please," he begged. "I - I can't help but shudder at his touch - I can't. But if I do, he'll punish me again. And I don't know if I can take that. _That_ might break me. Please help me."

Fenris shuddered. "Where do you want me to touch you?"

 _Everywhere_ , Anders thought. _Because he can touch me anywhere_. "Maybe start by helping me sit up," he said. "My arms hurt."

"Alright," Fenris whispered, then brushed away his own tears before sitting up.

He gripped Anders under the shoulders and pulled him into a seating position. Another awkward, semi-arousing feeling inside as the glass plug moved inside his body, but the relief on his arms was immediate, blood throbbing around his joints in a way both good and painful. "Thank you."

"Now what?" Fenris asked.

"I don't think it will work if I'm in control. Expecting it. Just... touch me. Help me get used to hand going wherever they want over my skin."

"I don't want them going anywhere over your skin," Fenris said, stubbornly.

"You know what I mean."

The elf huffed, but Anders read resignation in the hunch of his shoulders.

He lifted a hand and ran it perfunctorily down Anders' arm. It was not a lover's caress.

Anders snorted.

The hand ran up his leg, against the grain of his hairs.

"Very sexy," Anders said.

"I don't want to be sexy," Fenris replied.

He went on like that. Touching Anders' arms. His stomach, shoulders, legs - no where sexual or sensitive. It oddly helped. Anders couldn't jump at it. The elf was being ridiculous.

Finally, he laughed. "OK, stop. Do it properly."

"No," Fenris grunted.

Anders held his eyes - wished he could reach back and comfort Fenris in return. "I can take it. I promise," he said.

Finally Fenris nodded.

Freeing his hand, the touches began again. Slower, more languorous. Down his arm. Across his stomach, drifting up towards his breasts.

"Are you ready?"

Anders nodded, swallowing his nerves.

Fenris gently cupped one breast. Lifted it. Ran his thumb in a circle across the soft skin.

It was fine. Nice even. So much gentler than most of the touches he had had in the last two days.

"I don't mind when you do it," Anders said.

Fenris met his eyes, sadness written there.

Anders closed his eyes, and for a moment he was back on the Wounded Coast, playing a silly game.

"Most of the time it won't be me," Fenris said.

"I know."

"I don't want him to touch you," Fenris said, gently squeezing Anders' breast.

"I know." It felt strangely good to rest in Fenris's hands again. To be held again. "If I close my eyes, I could almost enjoy it. Make believe that you still own my breasts, not him."

Fenris's hand dropped from his breast. "I never did, Anders. We should never have played that game."

Anders sighed. Shifted closer to Fenris on the bed. "Just hold me again, then," he said. "For a little while."

Fenris drew an arm around him and held him close. "I cannot protect you," he said, burying his head in Anders' hair.

Anders knew that that was true, and it scared him. But he knew, also, that they had to find a way to endure this. "Just hold me," he said again. "Maybe, if I can know that it won't always be him, it will be enough."

Deep down in his heart, though, Anders knew that it would not.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris trains Anders to only come on demand.

Their days came to form a strange new normal.

Danarius would drink from Anders in the morning. When he was done, he would reach down to remove the glass plug that was now almost a permanent fixture of Anders' body and position himself to fuck the mage.

If Anders flinched or made any noise or movement Danarius didn't like at any point, he would stop, withdraw, look with sad disapproval at Anders, and instruct Fenris to continue he new slave's training.

The threat of punishment was rarely raised, but it hung over them almost palpably. The magister had told them he knew this would take time, but his patience would only last so long.

Fenris would begin the day stroking and petting Anders. Beginning with small caresses, slowly building towards touches at more sensitive areas.

Sometimes they would kiss. Sometimes they would fuck. But never to completion. Not for Fenris, anyway. Anders was still learning.

Danarius spent most of his day outside the cabin, working in the captain's quarters, but he would return in the evening, when he would fuck Anders whether he protested or not.

***

It was morning. Late morning. Fenris and Anders were enjoying a long, languorous kiss. A hand cupped one of his breasts - a soft and comforting pressure, not a squeeze.

In moments like this, as they lay, erections pressed together, the motion of the waves gently rocking them, bright sunlight streaming through the porthole, Anders could almost forget their situation, lose himself in the pleasures of the moment.

Almost.

Fenris's lips withdrew from his. "You are enjoying this too much," he said.

"I thought I was meant to seem like I'm enjoying it," Anders replied.

" _Seem_ , yes. Your pleasure is not yours to take. And you are enjoying it because it is me, and not him."

Fenris held his eyes until Anders looked away. "I need these moments when he's not here," he said, quietly.

Fenris relented, caressed the rough stubble at the side of his face. "Alright. Let us practice something else, then. He wants to control your pleasure, not merely destroy it. I will pleasure you, but you must not come until I say so.

Anders shivered, part with pleasure and part with fear. As a game, he knew he could enjoy something like this - that it could intensify the eventual release - but this would not be a game. This was practice. This was a reminder of just how much control Danarius would hold over him.

"Alright," Anders replied, his voice a little shaky.

Fenris kissed him again, just lips this time, then ran his hands down to Anders' chest and pushed his breasts up into a plentiful cleavage. He slid down Anders' body to bury his face there. It was an incredible sensation. His breasts were not yet tight and overfull, so it wasn't painful.

Fenris pulled back and covered one nipple with his warm, wet mouth. He sucked, and a small spurt of milk let down into the other man's mouth. "Mmm," Ander gave a high-pitched moan, and gasped when Fenris released him.

The elf sat up and ran his hands down Anders' torso.

"Don't stop," Anders said. "Please, you started, I need-"

"Don't tell your master what to do. You don't have needs. If he leaves you wanting, he does so, and you don't complain."

"Right," Anders said, his nipples tingling as milk beaded at them and dribbled down his breasts unattended.

Fenris ran his hands across Anders' firm abdominal muscles and down into his pubic hair, fingers tangling in the short, wiry lengths, but not pulling, and not touching his erect dick.

Anders breathed deeply, but said nothing.

After watching him for several moments, making sure Anders would not complain, Fenris shifted backwards until he was between Anders' legs. He pushed them up to bend at the knees and positioned himself behind them.

He bent down and kissed just the tip of Anders' prick.

Anders twitched and made a sharp noise.

"That's fine," Fenris said. "He will want to hear your reactions, as long as you don't object. Show him you enjoy it. Make him believe you love everything he does."

Fenris ran his tongue along Anders' length and he gasped.

"Would you like more?"

"Yes, yes, please," Anders panted.

"Yes, _master_ ," Fenris corrected. It was something he knew Fenris loathed, but they had agreed that Fenris would make sure Anders knew when to use the proper terms.

"Yes, master," Anders repeated. "Please, master."

Hot, wet warmth enveloped his cock as Fenris took him into his mouth, sucked, then withdrew.

Anders groaned and squirmed.

Hands played across his balls, then one slipped backwards and into his loose hole.

"More?"

"Yes, master. Please, master," he begged.

Fenris took him deeper into his mouth, and the finger inside him crooked in to find his prostate just as Fenris sucked down, washed his prick with his tongue.

Anders squirmed. Would have bucked, but a firm hand held him in place against the bed.

Fenris withdrew.

"I'm going to fuck you now," Fenris said. "But neither of us will come. You will hold back. You will endure it. You will ride it. You will understand that no matter what I touch, no matter how good it feels, it is not for you. You are the vessel he will use, and nothing more. When you come, you will do it because it is what he wants, and nothing more. You are hard when he wants you to be hard. You are fucked because he wants you to be fucked."

For a moment, Anders thought he saw a crack in Fenris's stony facade. The barest frown at his own words. But then it was gone, and Fenris was lifting his arse, positioning himself at Anders' hole, and then he entered.

The elf's long, hard flesh like a hot pole within him, angled with expert precision to rock against that sweet spot inside.

Anders groaned again - cried out - wondered if it was possible for his cock to get any harder.

Then Fenris began to move, his pace slow at first, then building. He slung one of Anders' legs over his shoulder to keep him in place and reached down his body. Squeezed his breast, hard, more milk dribbling out of him. Then back up to grip his hips, grasp his buttocks.

Then he was fucking him hard, hitting his prostate over and over. Anders didn't hold his noises back, but he could feel the pressure building inside him.

"Ah - ah - Fenris, please, I'm going to..."

Fenris slapped him hard on the side of his leg. "No. You won't. You come only when your master commands it."

A hand graced over his sensitive cock as Fenris resumed his pounding, and Anders wanted to curse him for this excruciating pleasure.

"Good," Fenris praised him. "Stay there. Stay hard and stay still. Still inside. You can hold on to that pressure. It can become you."

And it did. He was held in this place of tension just behind his cock. Holding back. Riding out this unrelenting stimulation.

He wouldn't beg, he mustn't beg. His pleasure was not his own. His orgasms did not belong to him. He would come only when commanded.

Fenris held him in that place for what seemed like an age - pounding him, caressing him, keeping him taut and ready to break.

Then finally the command. "Come for me."

And his did, with a great cry - almost as much anguish as pleasure.

Fenris held him in the throws of his orgasm, staying locked inside if hole. Then, as it dissipated and Anders collapsed back on the bed, the elf slipped free of him, still hard, to lie on the bed beside him.

Anders, still gasping, stared at him. "How can you do that? How can you still..."

"It is what he has commanded," the elf said, shortly.

His own cock still throbbing and twitching from the torture of holding back, Anders was overcome with pity. "At least let me help you. I can suck you off and swallow it all and he'll never know."

Fenris wouldn't meet his eyes. "He'll know."

"Bollocks," Anders scoffed. "Come here and let me help you."

"I said _no_ ," Fenris said, sharply. "I cannot come until he says. I cannot. I must not. And neither must you. Accept this as your truth and leave me be."

With that, Fenris turned away from him, and Anders could only stare at his naked back.

Something clicked into place inside, and he understood. This wasn't just obedience he had to learn. There was a rewriting of himself - not just of what he would do, but of what he _could_. Fenris had been told not to take his pleasure in Anders' body, and so he could not. Not even if there was no way the magister could know. This was the truth that Anders had to make his own.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danarius makes use of his well-trained toy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Not a long chapter, but hopefully kinky enough. I swear I'm trying to move the plot on so they can get off this blessed boat and into Tevinter, but Danarius just had to test that the training had really worked. We're getting there.

"Get hard for me, my new little toy," Danarius said as he entered the room, undoing the straps and fastenings of his robe.

 _Get bent_ , Anders thought at him. _'Little' - I've got alomst a head on you._ Fenris _is taller than you_ , he thought bitterly.

His body, however, shared none of his mind's resistance, blood rushing to his cock, raising it, causing it to slowly grow under Danarius's disinterested gaze.

The first few times, the magister had done this with blood magic. It hadn't taken much, the bodily function so rooted in blood itself. But Danarius had still tutted and sighed. It was apparently easier with Fenris, whose engraved cock would answer to magical stimulation of the lines of lyrium embedded there in.

Anders had been disquieted by how quickly his own body had come to respond. Eased by magic that pulled on his blood, it had begun to flow in the desired direction at the sole stimulus of command within a week.

Once undressed, the magister sat on the bed and ran his fingers against Anders' fully hard length, as if to test it.

Anders could not hold back a noise, but though his cock twitched from the attention, he did not pull away.

"How has he been today?" Danarius asked Fenris.

"Very good, Master," Fenris said, his eyes lowered and his face unreadable. "He twice delayed ejaculation until commanded."

Danarius raised one elegant grey eyebrow. "Has he? Well, that is good news. Let's see if we can make that a third, shall we?" The last was directed to Anders.

"Yes, Master," he intoned, sickened at the fact that he fervently hoped he could.

Danarius toyed with his dick a few moments more, then slid his fingers down and ran them over Anders' balls.

Anders did not try to contain the noise he made in response. It disgusted him how arousing the caress felt, but slowly he was learning to allow his body to make its responses. The pleasurable ones, anyway. The ones that would please his master.

Danarius smiled. "You like that, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," Anders gasped, as Danarius cupped his balls in hand, gently rolling the tender flesh.

The magister nodded. "Good." Then he let go, his fingers moving back to remove the glass plug in perfunctory fashion.

Anders gasped at the rough motion and the sudden feeling of emptiness. His anus twitched closed, then sprang open again. Danarius ran his finger around the small hole, laughing with delight as it opened further easily at his touch.

Then he moved away to grab the bottle of lubricant, leaving Anders achingly conscious of the emptiness inside and the erect and twitching flesh of his cock.

Not for long, though. Danarius oiled himself swiftly and set the bottle aside.

"I look forward to improving you so that this messiness is no longer necessary," He said, positioning himself between Anders' legs. "I have the necessary texts to conduct the ritual at home, but it was something that was never appropriate for Fenris. A pure pleasure slave can be wet all the time with little issue, but it can cause chafing on the outer skin if the flow becomes excessive - not suitable for a body guard. You, however," he ran his hands possessively down Anders legs, "I don't think there will be any issue."

Anders made a soft whimper, but managed not to shudder at the magister's touch. He did not want to be changed further.

"You will be glad of it in time," Danarius soothed him. "Especially at parties, where guests find it inconvenient to carry oil."

Anders made a high-pitched noise, closing his eyes. At parties. Guests. He could still look forward to being passed around and shared, then.

A hand stroked down his face. "Shhh, don't worry, my pet. None of them will be as rough as those sailors. Not if you're a good boy."

For a moment, Anders could only breathe deep, ragged breaths. But he knew what was expected of him. He had to show that he wanted to be a good boy. He forced his eyes open.

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master."

"Good," Danarius said, then slid his hand down to Anders' chest, cupping and squeezing his over-ripe right hand breast.

He moaned again, and then Danarius slid in.

It was wonderful how easily the magister slipped into him - just enough pressure for it to be a snug fit.

 _What? No! Not wonderful. It's horrible!_ he thought, then quelled his disgust lest it show on his face.

He reduced himself to sensations. Neither good nor bad. Simply things that were occurring.

The smooth slide of the magister's cock into his perfectly sized hole. The firm hands squeezing at his breasts. The tingle at his nipples as the milk formed, and the hot wet warmth of a mouth, sucking and sucking at him. Filling the other man up with his essence.

The vibration in his throat as he made the noises of pleasure. He let those happen, too. It felt good to be milked. So good, after nothing but the occasional light sucking from Fenris to start the flow and then frustrate him.

And Danarius switched from one to the other, pulling the liquid from him evenly, providing sweet relief.

And all the time he was fucking and stroking and pounding - taking pleasure from Anders in any and every way he chose.

"You're so good," the magister panted above him. "And I will make you so much better."

He panted he fucked he sucked and he rutted.

"You love this, don't you, my little toy?"

"Yes, Master."

"You want to come for me, don't you?"

"Yes, Master."

"You love every single thing I do to you, don't you my toy?"

It was horrible and awful and relentless and stimulating.

"Yes, Master. Please, Master. Let me come. I love everything you do."

Danarius nodded, sitting up and renewing his pace, pushing himself towards orgasm.

"Come for me then, my strange little toy," he said, and it was like a torrent unleashed within Anders.

He felt the tension release in his cock as his balls tightened and then fluid exploded out of him in a rush. It was quite unlike anything he had ever felt.

Surrender. Release. Bliss.

And distantly, horror, but in truth he was too wrung out to hang on to that.

He was hard when Danarius wanted. He came when the magister wanted. His body had already been changed to suit the magister's needs, and it would be again.

He did not belong to the man. Could not belong to him. No person could own another.

But what did it matter? His body certainly couldn't tell the difference.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders are 'rewarded' for good behaviour, and Anders enters a new phase of his training.

Once Anders had proven that he could now come on demand, both he and Fenris were rewarded with privileges.  
  
At last, at long last, Anders’ arms were released. Danarius clipped a long chain to his collar so that he could not move further than the edge of the bed, but he could rest his arms at his sides.  
  
He wept as they were released. He wished he could have resisted that, but it was such a relief. His muscles throbbing and twitching from being kept in the same, uncomfortable position for so long. And when Danarius pulled him to his chest and stroked his head he relaxed into the embrace.  
  
And when Danarius asked, "What do you say, my toy, when your master has given you such a gift?" Anders wanted to squirm and twist away, but instead he said "Thank you. Thank you, Master," and he said it with such feeling that he could not deny to himself that he meant it.  
  
Even knowing that Danarius was simply undoing something he had done himself, Anders was still ridiculously, stupidly grateful.  
  
And Fenris, having been chained to the wall, and teased, and asked to be ready then not used for days - weeks now. Fenris was finally taken by his master again.  
  
More, Danarius had honoured him by kneeling in front of his lyrium-lined cock and taking him into his mouth. And Fenris knew - _knew_ \- that this was not an honour, that Danarius sought the stimulation of the lyrium embedded in his skin, but it could not stop the surge of pride that rose, knowing that few slaves would ever enjoy the privilege of having their master pleasuring them orally.

Of course, he broke away before bringing Fenris to completion, leaving him throbbing and aching and dripping pre-come. Turned him round and spread his legs. Seated himself with a practiced ease, sliding in hot and full and hard.

Danarius licked and sucked at the lyrium in Fenris's neck.

"You cut your hair," the magister breathed into his ear as fingers laced through the white strands. "You will grow it for me again," he whispered, then closed his fist and pulled on Fenris's hair to drag his head back, making him cry out.

The magister's hands travelled down his body to his hips, where he took a firm grip. "You're mine. You were always mine," he said, pounding into Fenris in earnest. "Say it."

"I am yours," Fenris said. "I was always yours."

"If you betray me again, it will be your death. You know this," Danarius said, his voice becoming breathy.

"Yes, Master, I know this."

"I will skin you alive," he said, running fingernails down Fenris's back, hard enough to scratch. "Your skin is worth more than you are. You know this."

"Yes, Master," Fenris whispered. "I know." A deep dark part of his mind spat back, full of the spite and anger that had powered him for years: _then why am I still alive? Why do you condescend to use me again?_

It did not stop the magister from taking his pleasure, from pounding into his arse. It did not obscure the truth that Fenris let him. That he would not fight back. Could not fight back until they were off the ship, at the very least. And how much longer would he let it go on? Give not only himself, but Anders too, over to this sadist?

"You are fortunate - so very fortunate..." Danarius was panting now, coming close to finishing. "You master... is... mmm..." Danarius tensed, then jerked forward, his seed spilling deep inside Fenris.

"Come for me," he whispered, and Fenris did.

It was strange - both mechanical and urgent. He felt no pleasure in this release, though he had needed it for days. Working himself up to the edge as he stimulated Anders, then drawing back. His come erupted in a burning spurt, and Fenris felt nothing.

Danarius laughed and withdrew with an unpleasant wet noise.

"Clean yourself up," he said. "You may sleep beside the bed tonight."

***

The next day began a new routine.

Danarius no longer left Anders and Fenris alone in the cabin - or at least, not for long. Instead, he bade Anders sit with him as he worked. Anders was permitted a long skirt to wear - the bottom part of traditional Tervinter robes - but nothing on top.

Part of this, naturally, was for Anders to be in easy reach when Danarius wished to touch him, grope him, drink from him. But there was a deeper purpose as well. To Anders' surprise, Danarius also talked to him. Asked him about his experience with magic, his specialties and training. The magister practically crowed with delight to discover that Anders was a spirit healer.

"You really have brought me quite the prize, my Little Wolf," Danarius said over his shoulder to Fenris, as with one hand he stroked the undersides of Anders' breasts.

Turning back to Anders, he frowned and fiddled thoughtfully with the cumbersome collar that graced his neck. "We shall definitely be needing a more sophisticated collar for you. There are ones that permit healing magic, and only healing magic, and that would definitely be an asset. I'm sure you would enjoy being able to practice your art again, would you not?"

Anders flushed red, surprised that his opinion would even be considered, however much in passing. "That... would be wonderful," he said, and then cursed himself for the well of genuine gratitude that swelled in his chest.

It should have come as no surprise that Danarius was good at this - this punishment and reward crafted to win favour. And yet knowing what he was doing didn't seem to stop it from working. Anders _was_ stupidly grateful for the opportunity to feel and use his magic again, no matter in what limited capacity. There was also a foolish sliver of hope that a new collar would enable him to be in touch with Justice again, although Anders was sure that any restrictions that prevented him from drawing on the rest of his magic would lock out his connection to the spirit as well.

Danarius nodded, smiling to see the delight on his slave's face. "Good. I will arrange it when we dock at Minrathos," he said, then casually, as though it was as natural as taking a sip of wine at dinner, he bent and began to drink from Anders' breast.

This, he came to realise, was his new training. He was to be able to maintain conversation - to be polite, even entertaining - to discuss his magic and engage in theoretical discourse with the magister... and to be groped and drunk from causally without ever seeming ruffled or bothered by this use.

He found himself alarmingly good at it. He was too used to having to retain a veneer of normality whilst also being highly conscious that he was _not_ normal. Being joined to a spirit had not so much required the calm and pliability that Danarius wanted, but the facade of normality? This he knew. And he found long forgotten habits of geniality bubbling to the surface. He _liked_ talking to people. He liked to be entertaining. And though he hated himself for using these features in servitude - making them a part of the thing that Danarius _possessed_ \- it was a relief to find that he could do what was required, and do it well.

Within a week, Anders found he could chat quite normally as Danarius cupped and stroked his breasts or tweaked his nipples. Could easily find the thread of conversation again after the magister had stopped to drink from him or kiss him. And equally that he could sit silently when required, enduring as his master either ignored or stroked him as he worked.

And at the end of the week, he was ‘rewarded’ again.

“You have done very well, my toy,” Danarius said to him as he tweaked his appearance in preparation for his regular dinner with the captain. “Very well indeed. I have decided to reward you again.

“When we dock in Minrathos you will be required to attend many functions. I expect you to entertain my guests in any function they wish. Your manners will be excellent and you will be able to maintain suitable conversation. You will have further training, of course – your Tevene is acceptable, but your accent requires work – but we have made a good start. You will put your skills to use tonight, when you join myself and the captain for dinner. Do you see how you are honoured?”

Anders’ mouth was dry. He had known that in Minrathos he could expect to be shared with others again, but not so soon.

It didn’t matter what he wanted.

“Yes, Master,” he said. “Thank you, Master.” He became acutely conscious of his bare chest in a way he had not been for weeks now. He resisted the urge to cover himself with his arms. Heart hammering in his mouth, knowing he courted punishment, he asked. “If it please you, Master, do you require me to dress for dinner?”

Danarius snorted. “Something a little more formal, perhaps.” He bent over his trunk and pulled out an ornate leather cinch. “Fenris,” he said, “help him on with this.”

Anders swallowed. As was the fashion with this garment, the cinch ended below his breasts. Usually robes would sit underneath, covering the chest, though in the warm weather of Tevinter, men sometimes went without. Danarius had not provided him with the under-robe.

He said nothing as Fenris came up behind him, merely raising his arms out of the way as the cinch was fastened around him. Fenris did not tie it too tight, and between his shoulder blades he felt a brief but firm touch of lyrium lined fingers as the elf offered what comfort he could where it could not be seen.

Danarius smiled to see his creation, ran his hands under Anders’ generous breasts, and then down over his slender waist.

“Good,” he said. Then, with a glint in his eye, he draped a gossamer scarf over the mage’s shoulders, obscuring his breasts with the near-sheer fabric. “The time to display you to common sailors has passed,” Danarius said. “You are no longer tempted to behave roughly, are you?” he asked.

“No, Master,” Anders said, quickly.

“Then you will not be seen by rough eyes or touched by rough hands.”

Again, the bitter wash of relief coursed through him.

***

The wrap was removed as soon as Anders entered the Captain’s quarters. Danarius had him turn for the Captain’s inspection.

He was a tall man with a red beard, and Anders rather suspected that he hailed from the Anderfels himself, but if the man felt any kind of fellow feeling, it didn’t show in his face.

“Can you believe the transformation?” Danarius was asking.

The Captain shook his head, his eyes rooted firmly on Anders breasts. “Such an exotic creature you’ve uncovered, my lord.” He raised his hands, but looked to Danarius for permission. “May I?”

“Of course, he is here for our entertainment, are you not, my toy?”

“Yes, Master,” Anders said, forcing himself to smile as warm rough hands rubbed against soft skin swollen taught with milk.

The man looked away from his breasts to Danarius. “And when you drink from him, you just…”

“Straight from the nipple, Captain,” Danarius confirmed.

The Captain looked back from him to Anders, meeting his eyes for the first time with a raised eyebrow. “Alright then,” he said, and bent down to latch on.

Anders allowed himself to moan as whiskers scratched his skin and a warm mouth sucked down, stimulating his milk. The man’s teeth pressed uncomfortably into his sensitive flesh, but he didn’t complain.

It didn’t last long. The Captain was just trying him out.

“That’s something else, that is,” he said, stepping away without a care for the small dribble of milk that continued to bead on Anders nipples down that it had been let down. “But let us sit, I’m sure there will be time for more of that later.”

And there was. But intermittently, throughout the evening. Taking his lead from Danarius, the Captain began to include Anders in conversation, and he found himself in the strange position of carrying on almost the normal conversation of travellers together  whilst both men casually stroked, groped, and occasionally bent over to drink from him.

During the dessert course, after both men had had some port Danarius had brought with him, the Captain reached over and pulled Anders into his lap. He was one of the few men who would be taller than Anders standing up, making the position more comfortable than it might have been, and he easily cupped Anders breasts as he looked down over his shoulder.

“Have you considered altering him more?” he asked, switching naturally to talking as if Anders were not there – as though they had not been talking about the movements of the stars moments before.

Danarius shrugged. “I’ve considered many things. Anything in particular you had in mind?”

Firm fingers pinched down on his nipples, and Anders gasped. “Always been partial to piercings, me.”

Danarius arched an eyebrow. “Interesting! I had been so focused on the magic I hadn’t considered the mundane.” He met Anders’ eyes, smiling. “What do you think, my toy? Would you like to be pierced, like the little demon of desire that you are?”

 _No, not at all_ , he wanted to say, but as the Captain held his breasts in his hands, rolling his nipples between thumb and forefinger, he knew this wasn’t really about what _he_ wanted.

“If it would please you, Master,” he said.

Danarius laughed. “Yes, my little toy, I think it might. I think it just might.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders, Fenris, and Danarius arrive at Minrathos. Anders is taken apart by Danarius's household slaves and prepared for his master's pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, so I lost the first thousand words of this chapter oh my goodness. I'm pretty sure what I had before is better, but it's gone.

Anders had mixed feelings about docking in Minrathos.

He had been allowed clothes - real clothes that covered his chest all the way up to his neck. The leather cinch still emphasised his waist and bust, but at least he was covered. Danarius had had him freshly shaved, and with his hair down... well, he would not pass as a woman if anyone looked at his face, but he might draw less attention from a casual glance.

And fresh air - the feeling of sun on his skin and the wind in his hair was almost like freedom. Almost.

At the same time, docking brought him closer to all the alterations that Danarius had promised as they lay in bed together, his hands running over Anders' skin. And the more... social uses the magister had promised to put him too. Anders did not look forward to finding himself a party piece, handed around between magisters at whatever kind of functions they had in the Imperium.

He shuddered, then stilled himself as he heard footsteps approach behind him. Danarius looped his arms around Anders' waist and rested his head on his shoulder.

"They're going to love you, my toy," the magister breathed against his neck.

His hands travelled up Anders' body and squeezed his sensitive breasts. The flesh was maleable in Danarius's hands - not overfull, having been drained completely just an hour ago.

"You will be such a novelty - such a delight! They will forget the trouble my little wolf has given me entirely."

Danarius's teeth grazed Anders' ear, sending a thrill through his body. He did not suppress the moan that rose in response, and leaned back into Danarius's arms. He hated that this monster could wring such feelings from him, but best to endure it for now, until something could be done about it. Let the noises and motions that would please the man happen, if they would stop him from being punished again.

Fenris had seemed... somewhat brighter, the last few days. Not so that anyone else would notice it, but he was... more alert somehow, and in their brief moments alone, once the coastline of Tervinter came into view, he had warned Anders to be ready - that there would be more opportunities to escape once they reached land. Once they were on the grounds of Danarius's mansion the runes in their collars would make leaving more difficult, but on the way there he had hopes for an opportunity to escape.

None arose. Before they left the ship, Danarius had chained Fenris's arms behind his back once more, and for the journey, they were both securely chained by the neck to the carriage itself, although Danarius pulled Anders into his lap to play with.

Once they reached the estate, Anders was unnerved to find himself separated from Fenris and the magister both. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of Danarius forever, but having known no one but him, Fenris, and the captain for more than a month, anxiety rose within him at the sense of being deserted. It had not gone well, the last time he was left alone with strangers.

Fortunately, the other slaves were kind, if businesslike. They led him to a bath house and gently stripped him of his clothes. There were a few widened eyes when they saw him naked, the strange mixture of sexes that now was his body on display, but nobody said anything. The elf who seemed to be principally in charge of his care was completely unphased.

He had dark hair and bright green eyes, was slender, but well-toned. Attractive, as all the other slaves seemed to be, although older than most. The fine lines on his face suggested he was maybe ten years older than Anders himself.

Anders had asked him his name, but although the man did not _precisely_ roll his eyes, the side-long lidded look he gave let Anders know he had said _something_ foolish. "You may call me 'Itus'," he had said, then led Anders down into the comfortingly warm water.

When Itus reached for a bar of perfumed soap, Anders protested. "I can wash myself, you know."

That lidded look again. "No," Itus said. "You can't."

Anders gave in and let himself be washed without further protest. What was the point?

Itus did not talk him through it the way Fenris would have. There were no little words of comfort, letting him know where he would be touched before it happened. But somehow the dispassionate way Itus approached the business helped. This was clearly something he had done thousands of times before, and he took no pleasure in it for himself.

Anders mostly took it without complaint, but when the lathered circles of the man's hands moved up from his stomach to his breasts he couldn't stop himself from making a small noise and pulling back.

Fear and guilt shot through him like a knife. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry!" he said, he eyes wide, heart thundering. "I didn't mean to."

Itus held his hands back for a moment, considering. "You're new to this," he said.

Anders nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Very new," he said, meeting Anders eyes and reading something there.

Then he shrugged. "As long as you don't do that to the master."

"No," Anders said. "Not anymore. I've learnt. Sorry."

Itus began lathering up his hands again. "I still have to wash you," he said. "Everywhere."

Anders nodded, he understood.

This time when Itus's hands ran over his breasts, he did not pull away.

It didn't take long, and Itus's calm, dispassionate manner was itself reassuring.

As Itus turned him around and began washing down his back towards his buttocks, he steeled himself.

"We're not flushing you out today," Itus said, "but I will be cleaning your entrance and your cock."

Anders nodded, but couldn't find his voice. It didn't matter. Itus wasn't asking for his consent because Itus had no choice himself. He was simply describing what would happen.

Anders breathed in sharply at the intrusion of a finger, but it was mercifully brief. He didn't like to think about what 'flushing him out' would have involved.

The elf paused and lathered his hands up again before moving on to Anders' cock. It was strange to be dispassionately manipulated so down there. It reminded him oddly of when Danarius would idly play with his breasts without paying attention.

His flesh began to stiffen, especially when Itus moved on to his balls, but he managed not to otherwise react to the attention.

"Good," Itus said, pulling back. "You're done. Soak here for a few minutes to clear the suds away, then come out when I call."

 _Suds_ , Anders thought to himself as Itus walked up the steps and out of the bath. _You mean my stiffy_. But if the other slave didn't want to talk about what rubbing his cock had done to him, Anders didn't particularly mind.

It was a sadly short period of time before Itus came back and called him out. He left the comforting warmth of the water and allowed himself to be folded into the soft towel Itus held out for him.

It was almost as strange to be dried by someone else as it had been to be washed, but Itus was as swift and dispassionate as before. Then he led him into another room, lit by warm scented candles. Several bottles of oils were set out on a table.

"Some people quite enjoy this," Itus said, and he liberally dribbled oil into the palm of his hand. "I don't imagine you will at first, but it will get easier." He put his warm, oiled hands on one of Anders' shoulders and began rubbing it along his arms. "I'll need to do this everywhere," he said, as though remarking on the weather. "Just so that you know it's coming."

Anders nodded and tried to relax. There was something soothing about the smooth slide of the elf's hands across his body. When Itus moved down to liberally oil his chest Anders was surprised to find the sensation quite arousing. In another setting, to be attended to like this by a handsome older man, massaging his aching flesh...

Itus made a small noise and stepped back. Anders looked down and saw fresh milk leaking down over his oiled skin.

"Sorry," Itus said. "Nobody mentioned... that."

Anders flushed bright red. "I-"

Itus's features resolved themselves into a smoothly calm expression again. "I'll be gentler there in future," he said. His eyes traced a droplet as it spilled down the curve of Anders' chest. "How long will it...?"

"It depends," Anders said. "If you leave them alone for a bit they'll stop on their own."

The elf nodded and bent down to continue oiling Anders' stomach as though nothing had happened.

When he got to Anders' legs, he paused. "I forget that humans are so... hairy." He looked up at Anders. "He hasn't said anything, but if the master seems displeased with the hairs, let me know and we will correct it. Usually he prefers elves, so..."

Anders' mouth felt dry. "Right," he said.

Then Itus was back, rubbing his hands down Anders' calves just as though he hadn't just been talking about 'correcting' Anders' body based on someone else's whim.

A rush of fury rose up in Anders, seemingly out of nowhere. How could this little shit just calmly decide that something about Anders might need changing. How could it be nothing to him to rub his hands all over someone's body without their permission. Over his cock, his breasts, up his...

As swiftly as the rage had risen, it dissipated. None of this was Itus's fault. He'd been as decent as a person could be in this situation.

He took two deep breaths, then gave himself over to the numbness of being handled again. As Itus oiled his cock and balls. As he slipped a well-oiled finger up inside his anus, then filled him up with the familiar glass plug. Even as he delicately wiped away the tracery of milk before re-oiling his breasts with a gentler hand.

When this work was done, Itus brushed through his hair, smiling when he spotted the tiny hole in Anders' ear. "Oh, I have the perfect thing for this," he said, before disappearing off and returning with a small golden earring. The hole was a little tight - nearly healed over, but Itus pushed it through with little bother.

He stepped back and admired Anders, then nodded. "There. Come. The master will be expecting you."

***

He was shown into a bed chamber, large and sumptuous, well-lit with candles. Danarius sat at the far end by the fire, Fenris standing at his side.

Fenris was also naked and gleaming with oil, just as Anders was.

Anders felt a moment of bitterness. _Why couldn't they let us oil each other?_ But even as the thought came to him, he realised he wouldn't have wanted that. It had in many ways been easier to deal with Itus's dispassionate care. Less humiliating and painful than having Fenris degrade him against both their wills.

And, he realised, he would not have wanted to have to do that to someone else.

Although the result was... well. He had seen Fenris's body many times over the last few weeks. Come to know it with an intimate familiarity, but now... his fine, lean, powerful muscles _gleamed_. A part of Anders couldn't help but wish that they were alone and...

"Wonderful!" Danarius exclaimed, reminding him forcefully that they were _not_ alone. "I knew you would be of course, but this..." he said, crossing over to where Anders stood, "is exquisite." He ran hands up Anders' oiled skin, and Anders found he couldn't help but look down at his round and gleaming globes as Danarius lifted them and pushed them together so that the firm, tight flesh rubbed smoothly together.

 _Maker_ , he was getting hard at being toyed with like this. Could a part of him really enjoy it?

Danarius bent down and sucked hard on his overfull breast and he groaned at the release, and the press of soft lips against his smooth and slippery skin.

Somehow, some part of him _did_ enjoy being used like this.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being used again by Danarius, Anders is at first unresponsive, and Fenris fears for him. Once he forces the other slaves to allow them to be alone together, Anders opens up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex this chapter. People wanted Fenris and Anders to have some alone time, and I realised they were right, my poor boys needed it.

Fenris lay with his arm around Anders, holding him close.

Danarius had fucked Anders as Anders' cock had been speared in Fenris's arse - fucking them both, really, his hands groping and fumbling over Anders' oiled breasts, occasional spurts of milk squeezed down onto Fenris below.

Then he had left, leaving them sprawled on the oil-stained sheets, sweaty and greased. Neither of them had been allowed to come.

Anders had not moved since.

"Mage," Fenris said, leaning up over the man's shoulder and brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. "Anders, look at me."

Anders closed his eyes.

This was bad. He had thought the mage was recovering, finding a way to endure their situation until the chance for escape arose, but clearly he had been wrong. Had something happened when they had been separated?

Fenris kissed his shoulder. "I-" he began, but then the door opened, and he felt Anders stiffen in his arms.

His face still, in case it was their master returning, Fenris sat up.

It was only Itus, a man Fenris remembered from his time before, and also the man who had escorted Anders when he entered this room. Fenris's features relaxed into a glare.

Itus hesitated. "The maids need to clean the sheets," he said. "And I should bathe the master's new-"

"No," Fenris said.

A little hardness entered Itus's expression. "Whatever you've done, wherever you've been since you abandoned Master Danarius, you are his again now, and so is your friend. You cannot simply decide what you will and won't do anymore. We _need_ to change the sheets, and _he_ needs to be cleaned again."

"Then I shall clean him," Fenris replied.

Itus pursed his lips. "He's not yours, Fenris. Whatever you were to each other before, you belong to the master his now, and you have to get used to it. So does he. Pretending otherwise won't help him."

A low simmering rage rose within him. He'd never born Itus ill will before, but his complacency  now grated. And something, something he had done had pushed Anders  into this frozen nothingness.

He pushed off the bed and stalked over, looming over the shorter elf. "Look at him," he hissed, then gripped Itus by the neck and thrust him towards the bed. "He will not move, he will not speak. He was not like this before - in spite of everything. You think Danarius would be pleased by this if he came in here now?" He jerked the man back and thrust him towards the door in disgust. "You don't know half what you think you do. You know _nothing_ of what it is to be your own man and then reduced to _this_." Fenris spat. "You won't _touch_ him."

There was fear in Itus's eyes now, and Fenris was surprised to realise his brands were thrumming with their familiar burn. He extinguished them, took a deep breath, then let it out. Where was his control?

He glanced at the bed. Anders had not moved.

"You may take the sheets for cleaning, but we will bathe alone," he said, and turned his back.

Anders's eyes were open again when Fenris crouched down beside him. "I'm sorry," he said. "You'll have to move, but no one else will touch you. I swear it."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Anders said, quietly. But when Fenris held out his hand the mage gripped it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

Anders glanced down at his nakedness and shuddered, closing his eyes again.

"I - I will get you a robe," Fenris said, but Anders shook his head.

"Don't bother," he said. "They'll only have to clean that, too."

Fenris put a hand on his shoulder, but the mage shrugged it off with a look of irritation.

Fenris led him to the smaller bathing room that adjoined Danarius's bedroom, though he didn't try to touch him again.

Anders sighed and slumped into the water, not looking at him.

He picked up a sponge and sank into the warm water opposite the mage. "Will you let me wash you?" he asked.

Anders glared at him. "What happens if I say no? It happens anyway, doesn't it?"

Fenris held the sponge out to him. "You could wash yourself? I just thought... you didn't seem-"

"Oh, you thought, did you?" Anders said. "Like you thought you'd find us a way to escape before we even got here? Before _this thing_ ," he tugged roughly at the ugly metal collar on his neck, "meant that we'll never be able to fucking leave?"

Fenris swallowed. "The runes don't mean we _can't_ leave," Fenris began. "They make it harder, but-"

"Oh, piss off!" Anders said, moving away from him, deeper into the bath. "We're fucking _stuck_ here. _Hawke_ isn't going to rescue us. _You_ aren't going to rescue us. And I. Can't _do this_." He tugged again on his collar. Hard. Hard enough to bruise if he went on like this.

Fenris moved to go towards him, but Anders stood and retreated further back.

"I can't do this. I can't do this sitting and taking it _bull crap_. I can't. I can't be his _toy_. I can't just _let_ people play with me. I don't know..." he raised a hand to brush hair from his face, and Fenris could see that it was shaking. "I don't know why I let you persuade me. I don't know..." he broke off, his eyes looking glassy.

"I know it's hard," Fenris began.

Anger flashed in Anders eyes. "Oh, do you? Yes, you're right. You know exactly how it is. It's _just_ the same. Tell me, Fenris: how are _your_ tits doing? Has he told you how he plans to change _your_ body yet to make you more fun to fuck?"

Fenris went very still. "Are you under the impression that he has done nothing to alter my body already?" He allowed his brands to lightly glow.

Anders laughed. "Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I forgot about the ways he changed you to make you more powerful. To let you reach into other men's chests and pull out their hearts. Such a shame you don't feel inclined to kill _him_ though."

"Careful, mage," he hissed.

"Or you'll _what_?" Anders asked, his eyes flashing.

But then the light caught on the glassy sheen of his eyes again, and the fight went out of Fenris. This was not the irritating ignorant mage, thoughtlessly provoking him as they wandered the Wounded Coast. This was a man he'd seen violated over and over again. Whom he himself had fucked and touched and used at Danarius's command. This was a man shaking with terror and trying to hide it behind his anger.

"I'm sorry," he said at least.

" _Fuck_ your sorry," Anders said. "I don't _want_ you to be sorry. I don't want to sit there and take it until I start to like it. I want to _escape_." He started tugging on his collar again. "I can't feel Justice. I can't feel my magic. I-"

"Stop," Fenris said, crossing over to him. "You mustn't. You'll hurt yourself."

Anders laughed, an ugly, broken sound. "I'm already hurt."

"No, please," he didn't touch him - wouldn't unless he had to - but held his hands out beseechingly. "He'll punish you."

The mage stilled, dread seeping across his features. Shook his head. "I - I can't just take it anymore. It's not me. I - I never have. I - I need to get away. I..."

"We will," Fenris said. "I promise you, mage. _We will_. But you... you have to stay alive until then. Please."

"Right," Anders said, sinking back into the water, and Fenris wasn't sure if he was relieved or saddened to see the mage give in. He needed to somehow give the man more, but he wasn't good at this.

"Talk to me," Fenris said, at last. "Don't let him see how you feel, but... when we're alone. When it's safe. Tell me everything you hate. I promise I will listen."

Tired eyes met his. "Like you promise we'll escape?"

" _Yes_ ," Fenris said. "I _promise_."


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danarius takes Anders to be modified further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for blood, blood magic, surgery, and slight gore. It's fairly brief, but not pleasant. This... turned out a bit darker than I was expecting, but once I started writing I didn't feel like it could really be anything *but* dark. What Danarius is doing is Not Nice.

Anders wasn't sure how he found his equilibrium again after his outburst, but he did.

Fenris helped. It was easy to be angry with Fenris, but in truth Anders was grateful to have someone with him who didn't just want to use him.

After bathing, they returned to the now pristine chamber, where Itus was waiting for them. Fenris's eyes had flashed with anger, but Anders put a hand on his shoulder before he could move to chastise the elf again.

"Don't," he said. "It wasn't his fault. He was very gentle with me, really. I just... it was just all a bit much."

Fenris's eyes said he didn't really believe him, but Anders ignored him, moving over to Itus.

"Clothes," the other elf said, quietly. "It would be best if you allowed me to dress you. To make sure you look right. But," he glanced at Fenris. "I can leave them with you, if you prefer."

Anders could feel Fenris's glare, but he ignored it.

"That's OK," he said. "Just do it."

Itus nodded, laying the neatly folded pile of garments down on a chair, then taking a billowy, sheer undergarment from the top. Anders raised his arms and bent down, allowing it to be slipped over his head.

His breasts showed clearly through the diaphanous fabric that settled loosely about them, and he could see that lacing at the front could easily be undone.

Next, Itus held up a golden skirt of the same fabric, which he stepped into, and then both were pulled in about his waist by a leather cinch, decorated with golden wire-work.

The clothes were very fine indeed, and Anders wondered if Danarius had used them on other slaves in the past, or if he had somehow had these procured since he arrived. He supposed the fabric was generous enough that it would have suited a range of bodies.

Itus nodded with satisfaction as Anders looked down at his breasts, which were not so much concealed as displayed by the loose, sheer, shimmering fabric.

"Beautiful," Itus said. "The master has asked that you attend him and his guest in the lower laboratory. I am to escort you."

Anders' face fell. "The laboratory?" He exchanged a look with Fenris. In Itus's presence, his expression was blank, but Anders drew reassurance from the look nonetheless.

Itus nodded. "I'm sure it is no cause for concern," Itus said, although the words of comfort felt a little awkward in his mouth. The simple, noncommittal efficiency of their first encounter clearly came more easily to him. "Master Danarius has made it clear that you are very valuable to him."

Anders laughed bitterly. "Yes, that's the problem."

Itus nodded smoothly, "Yes, well, either way, you must join him. For your own sake, try to conceal your doubts. I believe he wants to make you feel special."

Anders' mouth went dry. "Right."

***

Anders had expected the 'Lower Laboratory' to be more of a dungeon, but it was surprisingly light an airy. He was led to it through gardens of exotic and beautiful plants that in other circumstances he would have loved to walk through and examine. There was certainly much in the way of magical equipment, but it had all been scrubbed to pristine cleanliness. He supposed that blood magic must be practiced here, but if so, there was nothing to show it now.

Danarius exclaimed with pleasure to see him. "Itus, this is _perfect_ , I will see you are rewarded." He took Anders' hands in his and drew him into the room, where a middle-aged woman with tightly plaited hair waited for them. "This is the slave I was telling you about, Marrielle. Isn't he unique?"

Marrielle looked him up and down, and he tried to stay still under her gaze. Then she moved forward and hefted his breasts in her hands, a warm glow telling him he was being examined magically as well as groped. "Most interesting!" She released his breasts. "I have seen similar done with blood magic, but these almost look natural. And the activation of the mammary glands is fascinating. But that isn't what you brought me here for."

Anders' heart quickened. Of course they wouldn't have brought him to a laboratory for a simple grope.

Danarius laughed. "All business, Marrielle, fair enough. Anders, lay down on the table please and pull up your skirt.

Anders flushed, but obeyed. He had no choice. He could not escape. Not now. However much he wanted to do the opposite, for now he must endure. No matter what they wanted to do to him.

Once he had laid down, Marrielle pushed his skirts up further, above his arse and behind his back. "Really," she said, "I don't know why you insisted on dressing him up first, this would have been easier naked."

Danarius waved a hand dismissively. "I trust you to keep the blood off his clothes."

It took every ounce of will for Anders not to jump at the mention of blood. He suspected Danarius was deliberately trying to rattle him.

He forced himself to lie still as Marrielle parted his legs and tied something about his cock and balls to keep them out of the way.

He held himself still as she tapped the base of the glass plug inside him, then pulled it out in one smooth jerk.

She ran a finger around the edge of his open hole as it twitched about the emptiness.

"The work here is a little clumsy," she said. "Not yours, I take it?"

Danarius shrugged. "I liked the idea of only using creation magic to alter him at that point, so I had an apprentice heal him around the plug."

She nodded. "You can tell the tears were not professionally made. Don't worry," she said, patting Anders' leg. "My work will be much cleaner than this."

The he felt a cool swab at his entrance and inside, and knew he was being cleaned in preparation for something. He had his suspicions about what.

As Marrielle straightened and selected a scalpel from the table next to him, he heard Danarius mutter a brief incantation and felt paralysis settle upon him. However good his training, they didn't want to risk his moving for this.

Marrielle was quick and efficient. Five swift, bright flashes of pain in his anus bloomed as she cut him inside. No anesthetic for a slave. He would have screamed if he could. The sensitive flesh of his entrance was in agony.

A hand ghosted down and gently squeezed and cupped his breast. He wished he could sob and turn away - he wished he could curl up around the pain inside him - but he could do nothing.

And Danarius was looking down with simple curiosity as he held Anders still and softly stroked his flesh.

Her finger intruded again, probing deep within, and a hot, dirty swirl of what could only be blood magic. He could feel it sucking on the blood that flowed freely out of him. He wished he could pull away from her, but he could not. And he could feel... something. Something changing about him. He knew this must be the ritual Danarius had said would make him moist and ready, but to not know - to not be able to move and feel for himself what had been done whilst another poked and prodded him...

Eventually, the pain diminished, and Marielle withdrew her fingers. She stood and came back into his field of view. Nodded to Danarius.

"It's done," she said. "Check the work for yourself."

Danarius's had trailed down from his breast, across his body, skirting his bound cock, until it reached his entrance.

A finger ran along the rim, and then in. The paralysis prevented him even from twitching in response to that.

Danarius hummed appreciatively, and felt deeper.

"Your work, as always, is perfection," he said. "I could have done it myself of course-"

"Of course."

"But as you know my research runs in other directions, and I believe in having the very best." Danarius withdrew his finger and wiped dampness on Anders' thigh.

"You can use him right away," Marrielle said, "You've paid for the very best, and I have delivered, but even the best blood magic will leave the flesh a little tender for a day or so. If you have a good healer - not the one who did the earlier work on him..."

Danarius shrugged. "He's actually a spirit healer, would you believe?" Marrielle raised her eyebrows and met his eyes briefly. "But I'm commissioning a special collar to allow him to practice his arts - it won't be ready, so I might as well wait, if that's what you recommend."

"Just to be on the safe side," she confirmed.

"Well then," Danarius smiled at her, "I think that went rather smoothly. You will stay for tea, I hope?"

They had begun to walk away, leaving him paralysed on the table. "It would be my pleasure," Marrielle replied.

As soon as the magisters had left, Itus entered and approached him.

"Can you move?" he asked.

Anders could not.

Itus nodded, taking in his lack of response, and set about replacing the plug, releasing his cock and balls, and gently pulling down his skirt.

He had just finished when Anders felt the paralysis finally release. He gasped, sobbed, and pulled his legs up to his chest.

Itus rubbed his shoulder. "Shhhh," he soothed, "It's over. If you can stand, I'll take you back to your room and you can rest."

Anders rolled over on his side, but couldn't seem to make himself unfurl.

Itus cleared his throat. "I know, it will feel strange at first, but you will get used to it. I had this procedure... many years ago. I barely even notice it anymore."

Anders looked at him, surprised.

The elf smiled sadly. "I'm not a favourite now, but I had my day. And if you do well, you can gain a good position in the household. Find other ways to be useful once his interest has moved on. They tell me you are a mage - if you impress him, that might even happen sooner rather than later."

Anders knew he was trying to be comforting, but the thought of living on like this until he was Itus's age, accepting his place, was a horror of its own.

He needed to get to Fenris. To someone who understood.

Still panting breaths that were half sobs, Anders forced himself to sit up and took Itus's arm when he offered it to help him off the table.

He'd expected to feel sorer than he did - especially with the plug popped back inside him, rubbing against his abused flesh - but it felt almost normal. Or as normal as it had felt for weeks.

Still, he leaned on Itus's shoulder and took what comfort he could from that.

The journey was slower than the walk out to the laboratory had been, but Anders took in nothing of the brightly colours plants. He only felt mild surprise when he was led away from the bed chamber he had been in before to another room. A smaller room.

"This will be your chamber," Itus said, opening the door. "It is not _his,"_ he said, pointedly looking at Fenris, who was rising from a seat by the fire. "But Master Danarius is permitting you to visit one another, as long as you are escorted by a more senior slave until you have earned more trust."

Fenris ignored Itus as he crossed the chamber to Anders and folder him into his arms. Unable to hold onto his dignity any longer, he collapsed against the other man's chest and began to sob.

"I have you, mage," Fenris whispered. Then to Itus: "Leave us." And when Itus began to protest. "He is no use to Danarius like this. Let me take care of him."

The soft closing of the door behind him let Anders know Itus had obeyed.

Anders didn't look up as he felt Fenris's arms fiddling on the buckles of the cinch behind his back. He didn't know what he was doing, but he would let it happen. When the heavy leather fell away and he felt the lighter fabric shift about him, he shuddered, but Fenris shushed him.

"I will not hurt you, mage. Anders," he said, his deep voice reassuring.

When he felt the fabric being drawn up, over his head, he let out a low moan, but didn't move to stop it.

"You don't have to wear this when we are alone," Fenris said. "I found you a robe."

He allowed himself to be pulled into it - simple cotton fabric, though soft and clearly very fine. Fenris closed it about him before he pulled the skirt down as well, freeing him from the garments he had worn to be violated again.

He watched silently, hugging the robe about him, as Fenris drew back the blankets on the bed.

"Get in," he said, and wordlessly Anders obeyed.

Fenris sat beside him and wrapped the blankets around him.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" he asked.

Anders shook his head, then sighed, and found his voice. "Just what he said he was going to do," he said. "Blood magic. Changing me. Making me easier to use."

Fenris's voice broke when he spoke again. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I can't protect you."

Anders sighed and forced himself to relax, muscle by muscle, into Fenris's arms.

"Itus said... I will get used to it," he said dully.

"Itus is a _fool_ ," Fenris hissed.

"Itus has survived."

Fenris's head shook against his shoulder. "Itus has remained a slave. We _will_ escape," he whispered, as though worried they might be overheard even here. "I promise," Fenris said. "I promise."


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders finds that Fenris has been forbidden to drink from him in the morning. Later, he finds out why...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, things are getting weirder. This is a piece of kinkery I've been working towards for a while. Hope you enjoy - I'm still amazed by the popularity of this story and remain grateful to all who comment.
> 
> [Edited to add:] I've had to turn comment moderation on folks. I guess I'm glad it took so long, but I'm not writing tens of thousands of words to be lectured on how this story isn't plausible. This fic is clearly labelled 'Dead Dove: Do Not Eat', which means that if you read it anyway you have no one to blame but yourself and writing abusive comments about how this debauched kinkfest isn't realistic is not only gauche, it's kind of idiotic. Don't like; don't read. If a kinky fic goes somewhere you don't want it to, nope the fuck out, but don't be rude about it.
> 
> YOU DID NOT PAY FOR THIS. IT LITERALLY COST YOU NOTHING. Have some class.

Anders fell asleep wrapped in Fenris's arms and woke to find a sleep-loose hand cupping one of his breasts.

His aching, full breasts.

Danarius had drunk from him when they'd last been fucked, but he hadn't been drained, and that was now quite some time ago. He needed attention. _They_ needed attention.

He pressed the hand closer again his chest, moaning to feel the ache increase as the milk-filled weight shifted. The hand twitched, and he smiled to know Fenris was awake.

"Hi," he said, turning in Fenris's grasp.

"Good morning," the elf said, the rich depths of his voice broken with sleep.

Anders reached a hand up to his neck and pulled Fenris's head toward his aching breasts. "I need your help," he said, sleepily.

For one delicious moment, warm wetness enveloped his nipple and Fenris latched on. He sucked. Anders' nipples tingled as his milk let down and he groaned with relief.

Suddenly, Fenris pulled back and Anders gasped at the absence.

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Anders said, clutching at the elf's neck to pull him back. "You can't leave me like this. It _hurts_. You've already got me _leaking_. Maker damn you, Fenris!"

Milk beaded, and ran down the curve of his breasts. He rubbed at it roughly. It would take a little while to stop once started.

Sleep was fading from the elf's expression as he frowned. "I'm sorry," he said, real sadness in his voice. "Danarius forbade it. I do not have permission to drink from you right now."

Anders covered his face, feeling, whether he would or not, the shifting weight on his chest as the motion pressed his breasts together.

"I can't, I can't, I can't," Anders murmured. "Please," he begged, pulling his hands away and finding one of Fenris's with his. "Please."

Fenris looked away. "I'm sorry," he said again, feeling in his voice.

"Right. Fine." He dropped the hand and shifted away from Fenris in the bed. Aware now, too, of the morning wood that had stiffened to full hardness from the attention to his breasts. And the shifting of the plug inside him.

"Damn it!" he swore, furious with all the ways he had been altered. He reached down under the covers and found the base of the plug. There was a slick moistness around the edge.

Of course.

Finding the lip, he eased the plug out and dumped it on the sheets. It was wet with a whitish clear substance. He glared a challenge at Fenris. "Don't you dare say I'm not supposed to take it out. What's the point of it anyway if I'm already permanently loose?"

"Anders..." A hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged it away. Reached a hand between his legs and investigated the moistness there.

Slickness on the bumped ring of his anus. He dipped a finger inside and gasped at the pleasure of the sensation. His ring clamped down about him. He felt different inside and out. It wasn't just the thin sheen of lubricating mucus. He was more sensitive.

He wanted to be used. To be filled again.

"You should feel this," he heard himself say, withdrawing his hand to grab Fenris's again and pull it under the sheets.

"Anders..." Fenris pulled back against him, but not enough to break free.

Fingers against his butt cheeks.

"Go on," Anders said, pressing them down towards his hole.

Two of Fenris's fingers found the edge, and he pushed them inside.

He heard Fenris's soft gasp, and pressed them further in.

The touch of them inside his slicked and softened walls.

He moaned against the fingertips, then exclaimed in frustration as Fenris withdrew them again.

"You've said that you'd help me!" Anders said. "If you won't help me with these," he gestured to his swollen breasts, "then the least you can do is fuck me." He reached towards Fenris's crotch and grasped his hard member through the sheets. "I know you want to. Please. I don't want him to be the first person to use me like this." He hadn't realised it was true until he said it, but it was. He wanted to claim a little bit of himself back by deciding who would fuck him, just once, just now.

"I can't," Fenris said, despair in his eyes.

"You don't have to come. I don't have to come. I get it. I know. But please, I need to feel someone inside me who isn't him." This begging to be used, was this what he'd come to? And yet he needed it, so badly.

"I'm sorry, Anders," Fenris said, taking his hand in his, their joined fingers moist with his discharge. "It isn't just that. Master said specifically that you mustn't be fucked. That it might damage you, as your body adjusted.

"'Master'?"

Fenris looked away, and Anders was surprised to see the wetness in his eyes. The warrior rubbed at it with his free hand. He shuddered. "It creeps in," he confessed. "To my way of thinking. Even when we are alone."

With a sinking feeling, Anders recognised how selfish he was being. He was not the only one who had been enslaved. It was hard to think beyond all that had been done to him, but he had come to depend on Fenris for so much, and the man was, himself, living through his worst nightmare.

"Sorry," he said, and expelled a deep and heavy sigh. "It can be hard to see beyond all these changes sometimes."

"You don't have to apologise, mage," Fenris said, quietly. Green eyes met his. "I understand."

***

Fenris had dressed by the time Danarius came for them. Anders was still wearing the cotton dressing gown. He couldn't bear the thought of wearing again the clothes he had been dressed in for the laboratory, and he felt overwhelmed with lethargy at the thought of investigating the wardrobe and chest of drawers he had been given and whatever other horrors had been lined up to display him.

Fenris had tidied away the clothes and made the bed. Anders then sat back down atop the sheets. He didn't want to undo Fenris's work, but neither was he ready to be up and a part of the world again.

"Ah, my beautiful creatures," the magister said as he entered. "Well rested, I hope." He took Anders' chin and looked into his eyes.

Anders forced himself to smile. "Yes, thank you, Master."

"Good. Fenris, remove your gauntlets," Danarius said, not looking away from Anders, reaching down to undo the tie of the dressing gown. "They would get in the way. Stand my pet," he said to Anders, and Anders did. The magister removed the robe, leaving him naked.

"You won't need clothes for this."

Dread filled Anders even as his skin flushed red. Were they going to be fucked? Or was he to be paraded through the estate nude?

The latter, it seemed, for Danarius turned away and headed for the door. "Come," he said, and they followed.

Anders felt the eyes of the other slaves upon him as they passed through the corridors. They said nothing, but many had not been as well trained as Itus, and they failed to school their features as they regarded the oddity of his body. Anders suspected Danarius enjoyed the reaction, for he wore a satisfied smirk.

At last, they were led into a small room, plainly decorated in white tiles with blue accents. A girl in a plain smock stood in the corner, next to a large steel bucket. In the middle of the room was an odd, padded table with two holes cut through it and straps at one end. Danarius led him to the other and bent him over until his breasts hung through the larger hole and his head looked down through the smaller; his arms lay stretched beyond.

"Strap him in," Danarius said, and Anders felt Fenris's familiar hands take his and press him into the restraints.

The magister clicked his fingers and he heard footsteps. A clatter, and he saw the metal bucket positioned beneath him. He had a bad feeling about where this was going.

His vision was limited, but he saw as the girl pulled a small stool into place and her skirts settled about it.

"Fenris, fetch the other stool and watch this. I will be expecting you to do the other side."

Anders' dread moved towards certainty, and he became very conscious of his exposed and aching breasts hanging down over the bucket. As he watched, a small droplet beaded at one of his nipples and dripped with a too-loud sound into the bucket below.

"Begin," Danarius commanded.

The girl hesitated. "Master, a human breast is shaped quite differently... it may not..."

A sharp sound of flesh on flesh. The girl did not cry out.

"I have consulted on the matter and am assured it will work. So make it work."

Trembling hands entered his field of vision, and then he felt them, cold against the skin of his left breast. He twitched, but managed to restrain any further reaction.

The hands pressed firmly against his aching flesh and pulled down.

He could not resist a moan. The pressure and pain was exquisite, but nothing to the blessed release as she tugged firmly down, all the way to his nipple, and the milk released, spraying into the tin bucket below. "Ahhhh..."

Danarius patted his rump. "Good boy."

She started at the top of his breast and pushed down with more confidence. Another blessed spray of release. Damn him, it felt so good. His right breast began to drip in sympathy from the pressure of milk.

"You see what she's doing?" Danarius asked, presumably of Fenris. "It shouldn't be hard. Milk the other breast."

"Yes, Master," Fenris said, his voice deadpan.

Anders had closed his eyes, but heard as Fenris sat on the other stoole beside him.

Familiar hands closed on his flesh as the girl continued to tug with growing confidence on his left breast. Fenris pressed down, but much more gently. It earned him little more than a dribble.

"Harder," the magister said. "Watch what she is doing."

"Yes, Master," Fenris said again in the same deadpan.

He squeezed down more firmly, and Anders groaned at the release and fresh spurt of liquid into the bucket below. Shamefully, his cock twitched and began to stiffen.

"Good," the magister said, and Anders felt hands on his arse again.

A finger wormed its way along the edge of his hole.

"You removed the plug," Danarius said.

Was he supposed to respond? Uncertainly into silence broken by the sounds of his milk being squeezed from him, he said. "I'm sorry, Master, I wanted to see how it felt."

Would he be punished for this, he wondered, as two sets of hands continued to pull distractingly on his flesh.

"Hmm," the magister hummed. "So do I," he said, and pressed in.

Anders gasped and his cock jumped. The hands on his chest ceased their rhythmic motion for a second, then picked up again.

Danarius's finger wriggled about inside, and his hole seemed to throb from the attention, rough as it was.

The finger withdrew and dampness was wiped on his arse.

"Quite wonderful. I can't wait to fill you up properly, I must admit, but it will have to wait." The magister slapped his arse again. "Carry on," he said to Fenris and the milk maid. "I expect him to be milked dry, then take the milk immediately to Shotur, he will know what to do with it."

"Yes, Master," the girl said, squeezing down Anders' breast again, bringing another rush of release and sound of spurting milk.

"Good," Danarius said, and Anders heard his feet retreat to the sound of his breasts being milked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to research whether humans can be milked in this manner is an... interesting enterprise, and one that made me feel a bit uncomfortable because while this is a fantasy for me, the idea of it being a reality is a squick. I know, I'm weird. I'm sure you've realised that by now. Obviously milk can be expressed with modern machines, and I could have had a magical equivalent, but... this is what I wanted. My limited research suggests this would work, but please don't rock up to the comments with opinions about its reality or not. I'm not interested in being 'splained to, just writing some kinky fic. Don't like; don't read... otherwise, please accept that this is reasonably plausible.


End file.
